


Dragons and Roses

by RubyLipsStarryEyes



Series: Prophesies and Revelations [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, Ilvermorny transfer student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 97,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21923974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyLipsStarryEyes/pseuds/RubyLipsStarryEyes
Summary: Draco returns to Hogwarts after the battle, a social pariah and at a loss. And then an American transfer student changes everything.This is part 1 of 3 part story that spans the decade after the Battle at Hogwarts; each story follows a different set of characters and will be posted over the course of quite some time. Buckle up, you're in for a ride.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Astoria Greengrass
Series: Prophesies and Revelations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578997
Comments: 195
Kudos: 84





	1. The American Witch

September, 1998

Draco was staring dejectedly over his potion. It was only their first week back after the war, and he was already second guessing his decision to come back for his 8th year. His family’s extremely public fall from grace ensured that Draco himself, despite being vouched for by the golden boy himself, was now a social pariah, even within his own house. Sure he had a few friends left, but it was… awkward. To say the least. 

Slughorn was rambling on about the importance of timing in the growth potion they were brewing, and Draco found himself missing Severus. He’d been a right pain in the ass, but he was a phenomenal potions master, and Draco had quite liked his Head of House, his preference to Slytherin house aside. Hogwarts wasn’t the same without him sweeping around dramatically, scaring the piss out of first years. Part of him still expected the man to slam a door open, calling someone a dunderhead. 

The door opened with a bang, bouncing back off the stone wall, and Draco’s breath caught. The girl in the door had looked surprised, her eyes wide, and had barely caught the door as it swung back towards her. The brunette girl in student robes was decidedly _not_ Severus. 

“Ah Miss Hollingsworth. Come in, take your seat.” Slughorn indicated the last open seat. The one next to Draco. He expected her to look uncomfortable or to shy away from him, but she just shut the door, sat down, and pulled open her bag to retrieve her copy of Advanced Potion Making. 

Draco kept his eyes trained on the potion base, a clear liquid that swirled lazily in the cauldron. He kept his hands folded on top of the desk in plain sight. He was determined to keep his head down, and just get through the year. 

“Alright. Pair up, and get to know your cauldron mate, this is who you’ll be brewing with for the rest of the term! Get started, you have 2 hours.” 

Again, Draco expected a sigh or uncomfortable shift from the girl, and again, nothing came. He chanced a look at her, holding his breath. Ravenclaw, but he didn’t recognize her. Her long brown hair was pulled into a braid, draped over her right shoulder and tied with a white ribbon. 

“Okay. How do you want to do this?” She flicked her eyes up at him. Her American accent was the first thing he noticed, followed by her complete lack of fear she showed him. That was unusual. She was looking at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, and he realized he was staring. 

“Are you new?” Is all he managed. 

She narrowed her eyes. “Obviously. Is that okay with you, or do I need a new partner?” 

“I just don’t think you want to be my partner.” He shifted his eyes back down to his book. 

“Do you suck at potions?” She sounded incredulous. 

“No, I get top marks.” He chanced a look back up at her. 

“Are you going to tell me you’re a murderer or something?” She was looking decidedly unimpressed. 

Draco flinched, noting Granger looking around with wide eyes. “No, I just—“ 

“Barring those two things, the second being negotiable, I really don’t care. If you have a problem with having an American partner, fine. If you think I won’t like you, you’re right. You’re all too uptight, but I’m here because I have to be. So either tell me now so I can get another partner, or shut up so we can get to work.” 

His pride burned at that. “I don’t care if you’re American. Do you know who I am?”

She looked back up from the book. “Nope. You could be the king of England and I wouldn’t care.” She pointed across the room to the storage cupboard. Are you going to keep acting like a jerk or can I get our ingredients?” 

He just blinked at her, and she rolled her eyes and stood, crossing the room. Who the hell was this girl? 

She came back with the necessary ingredients, and they got to work, silently chopping, crushing, and juicing. Her cuts were perfect, and he couldn’t even critique her form. She rivaled even him and Granger; that was also unexpected. By the end of class, they had the only perfectly brewed potion, impressing Slughorn enough to award each of their houses ten points. Even Granger, who was paired with Longbottom hadn’t achieved that. 

She helped Draco clean up, and then looked him up and down. “I suppose you’ll do. But you need to work on your methodology for stirs.”

Draco bristled at that. “My methodology is fine.” This American witch was irritating; even more irritating than Granger. 

She shrugged. “Whatever. Like I said. You’ll do.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the dungeon before he could reply. 

Draco was still fuming over her criticism when he sat down in the back corner of greenhouse four, preparing for Professor Sprout’s NEWT herbology lecture. When someone slid into the seat next to him, he looked around, surprised, and then annoyed when he saw the brown braid of the American witch. 

“Must you?”

“It’s the only seat left. At least you don’t talk.” 

He begrudgingly gave her that one. She didn’t make small talk either, which was fine with him. She took notes through the lecture, answered a few of Professor Sprout’s questions on soil preparation, and by the end of the class he was wondering if this girl was going to overtake Granger for teachers pet. She gathered her things, and was the first one out the door again. 

Draco heaved a sigh when he realized that he only had to endure dinner before he could find a deserted classroom to hide for the rest of the evening.


	2. Claiming Classrooms

In the great hall, he sat at the very end of the Slytherin table, a bubble of empty seats around him. Blaise was off chasing a skirt, and Pansy was busy telling off a bunch of first years. He played with the stroganoff on his plate more than he ate, and it wasn’t long before he gave up, taking his bag and heading to the classroom on the second floor next to the charms classroom that he was using to study. 

Draco swore when he walked in; the blackboard had been taken over by a class schedule, and the American witch had spread her books out around her on the floor. The class schedule was very nearly identical to his, though he was taking Ancient Runes where she had a free period on Tuesdays and Fridays. This had to be some kind of sick joke. 

“This is my classroom.” Draco crossed his arms and planted his feet just inside the doorway. 

“Funny, I didn’t see a name anywhere on it.” She didn’t even look up from whatever she was scribbling on the paper before her. 

“You don’t even know my name.”

“I don’t see the problem here.” She glanced up at the blackboard, and kept scribbling. 

He stalked over and peered over her shoulder. It looked as if she was trying to map out how to get from class to class. Interesting. 

“You’ve got that wrong. Defense Against the Dark Arts is on the fourth floor.” Draco surprised himself by correcting her. “And while we’re at it, England hasn’t had a king in fifty years.”

She scratched out where she had it written it was on the third and kept going. “Only forty-five, actually. Queen Elizabeth’s coronation was in 1953.” He huffed in annoyance, but decided as long as she kept quiet she could stay. He settled in the empty teacher’s desk and started on a charms essay that had been assigned the previous day. 

They worked in silence, the only sounds their quills scratching over their parchment and their quiet breathing. 

After a while, she stood up and stretched, comparing her written directions to the schedule on the board. She seemed satisfied, because she tucked the parchment away and erased the board with a wave of her wand. Draco hoped that she would leave now, but she pulled out a book and another piece of parchment, settling back on the floor to complete whatever it was she was doing. 

Ten o’clock rolled around, and they were still sitting in silence. “You need to get going for your common room or you’re going to miss curfew.” Draco didn’t look up from his essay. 

“What about you?” She checked the clock, and yawned. 

“My common room is closer. I have five more minutes.” 

She stood, collecting her books and assignments. “Which one is the green one?” 

He rolled his eyes. “I’m in Slytherin house, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Hmm. I thought they said you guys were supposed to be the self-serving ones.” She looked him over with a critical eye. 

“We can be. Better than the smart-arses in your house.” Draco glanced at the clock again, and started packing up his things. 

“Interesting. I guess I’ll see you later.” She left, the same determined stride she’d used leaving both classes earlier, leaving Draco feeling especially annoyed that he hadn’t even gotten his evening alone. 

The next day, she showed up in every class, and every class she slid into the one remaining seat next to him. He didn’t say a word, just tried to ignore her and her long braid that splayed across the desk when she leaned over to take notes. By the end of the day, he was sick of seeing that damn braid that wasn’t boring brown but a had threads of auburn and deep gold running through it. Today the end of her braid was tied with a royal blue ribbon. 

He rushed through dinner, hoping to get to the classroom before she did. The room was empty, and he let out a sigh of relief. Maybe she’d leave him alone tonight. He laid his books out over the large desk, and started copying runes from his book onto the blackboard. 

He ignored the door opening behind him, knowing it was the irritating American. Blaise and Pansy were busy, and nobody else would risk being alone in the same room as him.

“You missed one... Draco.” He nearly snapped the chalk in his hand at his name being drawn out like that across her lips. It was nearly obscene. He turned, and sure enough, the girl was settling on the floor, pulling her books out of her bag. 

“No I didn’t.” He turned back to the board, looking over the characters transcribed in chalk. 

“Look again. Second line from the bottom.” Sure enough, this time he found the missing character. He swore. 

“And since when did you learn my name?” He fixed the rune and snapped the book shut. 

“It was on the top of your paper in transfiguration. Though I can’t say it’s especially fitting. You’re not much of a… dragon.” She didn’t look up from the book in her lap to see Draco’s sneer. “Maybe a lizard.” 

“And is yours so much more fitting?” He shot at her. 

“Mine is hard to live up to. But I’m not a pretty little flower either, so I guess not.” She finally looked up at him, expression cool. “Though if that’s how you resorted to finding out my name, you aren’t as clever as I thought you might be.” 

“Grace Rose Hollingsworth, according to Flitwicks’s attendance sheet.” Draco turned back to the board, trying to ignore the girl. 

“First class of the day. Someone was eager.”

“I figured I might as well know who I’m going to be stuck with in nearly every class for the rest of the term,” he shot back. 

“Every class, huh? How unfortunate. You won’t have a chance at being top of the class then.”

“You’ll have to fight that one out with Granger. I’m just here to do my NEWTs and leave.” Draco couldn’t keep the venom from his voice. 

”That makes two of us.” 

Draco didn’t answer, just turned back to his translations and left her to whatever it was she was doing. Halfway through the evening, he erased the board and sat at the desk to finish the essay he’d started the previous night. He found his mind wandering though, and after the fourth line he had to cross out, he angrily snapped his books shut and shoved them into his bag. 

“Calling it an early night? Grace didn’t look up. It was only 8:30, but he didn’t want to admit his mind couldn’t stop wandering. 

“Obviously.” 

She made a noncommittal sound in her throat, and he was at the door when she said almost soft enough that he couldn’t hear, “Goodnight, Draco.” 

He slammed the door in response. 


	3. Telling

The next day was blessedly Friday, which meant Draco had Ancient Runes without the ever-irritating Grace, and two whole days without her, thank Merlin. He was still riding his Grace-less high at lunch, and reveled in the thought of a whole weekend without her. He was even slightly less irritated than usual to see her already perched on the other side of their cauldron in the dungeons. 

“Draco.”

“Grace.” 

Their brusque greeting seemed to be their version of a truce, and she sat to his left, unperturbed by the stares and whispers that erupted at his name from her lips. Draco grit his teeth and smoothed his long, slender hands over the pages of the book in front of him. The large emerald set in the ring that made its home on the middle finger of his right hand flashed in the low light, and his stomach twisted. 

He hadn’t wanted to wear it, but was all but ordered by his father. He was no longer just the Malfoy heir; it was his duty to restore their name and continue the line, or so he was told. 

“Earth to Draco.”

“What?” He turned to see her tapping her muggle pen agitatedly on her open book. 

“It’s your turn to get the ingredients.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Too bad. I did it last time.”

“You don’t understand.” Draco grasped the edges of the book, staring at his whitening knuckles. “They don’t look kindly on me getting in their way.” 

She muttered something that sounded dangerously like “big baby” and stood, throwing her pen down. He took several deep breaths, and tried to tamp down the anger that flared in his chest. Stupid American witch didn’t know who she was dealing with. 

She came back, and shoved half the ingredients at him to prepare. He took them without complaint, setting to work. He was content to let her go, until he watched her grabbing for the wrong ingredient. 

“The flobberworm mucus is next,” he hissed at her. She set the chopped black nettles down with a thump, and took the correct bottle he offered, Draco carefully keeping his fingers from brushing hers. After that, he handed her the ingredients in the correct order until they were done. Again, their finished potion was perfect, and Slughorn was delighted. 

Draco stormed out of the dungeon before she did this time, stopping by the great hall for a plate and taking it with him to the second floor classroom. As usual, he took up the teachers desk, spreading out his books around his dinner plate. 

The roast chicken and veg on the plate wasn’t appealing, but he had noticed his robes getting looser. There was only so much his tailoring charms could mask, and he’d rather go naked than endure ill-fitting robes. He had been raised better than that, and Narcissa would be appalled if she found out. Though now he thought about it, Severus had been the one reporting back to her on how he’d been doing, so he supposed now she’d only find out if he told her. Still, it was the principle of the matter and he wasn’t going to show how it was affecting him. 

Predictably, the door creaked opened half an hour later and the brunette slipped in. She took her place on the floor, and Draco didn’t look up from his astrology chart. Hoping for continued silence was evidently too much to ask, because she cleared her throat several minutes in. 

“Why do you hide in here every night?” 

“I thought you didn’t care and didn’t talk.”

“You can’t blame me for wondering. It’s been what, three days? And I haven’t seen you say a word to anyone that wasn’t me or a professor.” 

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Draco was getting annoyed again. He made a few more notations on the chart. 

“So tell me.” 

“Why would I tell you?”

“Who else would you tell?”

“You tell me first. Why are you hiding?” He slammed his quill down, the cutlery on the now empty plate clattering. He glared at her across the room, and she just looked back, her gaze cool and even. She stood up, approaching the desk. She planted her palms on the desktop, leaning over so she was mere inches from his face. Draco noticed what he’d taken as dull, dirt-brown eyes were actually the color of a nice whiskey, flecked with gold. 

“Because I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to get attached to anyone or anything. I’m taking my NEWTs and I’m going back to the US, where I belong.” She sounded sincere, and angry. 

They shared stares; cool, steely grey meeting burning, molten gold. 

Draco’s fingers found the button on his left sleeve cuff, and tore it open, yanking the sleeve up over his forearm. The Dark Mark that had been branded into his arm had started to fade when the Dark Lord had been killed, but it had only been three months and still stood in painfully sharp relief against his porcelain skin. 

Her eyes flicked to it, a glimmer of recognition, but she surprised him yet again when she didn’t show a shadow of fear. Very interesting indeed. 

“So?” She looked as if he hadn’t shown her anything more impressive than a pygmy puff tattoo. 

“So I was tried as a war criminal. I was the reason people died.” Draco yanked his sleeve back down, rebuttoning the cuff. 

“Obviously they can’t think you’re that bad or you wouldn’t be here.” She finally stood upright, crossing her arms across her chest. 

He sneered up at her. “Shows just how much you know.” He stood, stalking around the desk to face her. He hadn’t realized how petite the witch was until he was towering over her, trapping her between his body and the desk. 

“You don’t scare me.” She lifted her chin defiantly up at him, her golden brown eyes challenging. He noticed a small scar pocking her cheek under her right eye, marring the otherwise smooth skin. He didn’t say a word, just reached up and pinched one tail of the red bow at the end of her braid and pulled. It came free slowly, until he was holding the length of ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. 

“If I wanted you scared, Grace, you would be.” He dangled the red silk between them. Her lips parted, and he dropped the ribbon, stepping back away from her. 

He sat back at the desk, and returned to the star chart. 

“I prefer to go by Rose.” She returned to the floor and didn’t say another word. Draco peered at her through his eyelashes, now more intrigued than annoyed. 

The girl, or woman, rather, lay on her stomach over her book, deeply engrossed in whatever she was reading. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, showing off the pretty curves of her legs. Her robes and plaid skirt had ridden halfway up her thighs, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She had retrieved the ribbon, and was running it through her fingers. It looked much bigger in her hands than it had in his own. Her hands were tiny, he realized with a start.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she read. Her rather nice lips; a pretty rose pink. He couldn’t stop the snort that escaped at the thought, but she ignored it, thank Salazar. He averted his eyes back to his school work, but he couldn’t focus. Draco set his quill down, and left his books to go to the loo. 

He splashed some cold water on his face, the icy water shocking his system. He needed to find a new classroom if he couldn’t make himself focus. But tomorrow was Saturday, and he’d have two full days without her acting as his shadow. A glance at his watch showed it was only eight. Curfew on the weekends extended to midnight, but maybe she didn’t know that yet and she’d leave at ten. Dear Salazar, let her go at ten.

Returning to the unused classroom, Draco started translating every old poem he could think of into ancient runes, attempting to clear his mind like Severus had taught him. Unfortunately, when he opened the door, she was in the middle of transfiguring a hard desk chair into an armchair. He had to admit her wandwork was quite good, and his silent translations tapered off. 

“Tired of the floor?”

“Well someone keeps hogging the desk.”

“It’s my classroom.”

“Still have yet to see your name anywhere on it.” 

He rolled his eyes and sat down at the desk, determined to ignore the witch. She was quiet the rest of the evening, though someone had indeed informed her of the later curfew because there she sat until ten minutes to midnight. 

Draco let out a sigh of relief when the door slammed shut. Maybe he’d put his name on the bloody wall if that would dissuade her. 

Smirking, he got to his feet, wand in hand. Just outside the door, he paused, the blank plaque glinting in the torchlight. He tapped it with his wand, an engraved dragon appearing on the polished bronze. It walked back and forth across the plaque before settling down, blinking at Draco. Satisfied, he tucked his wand away, and left in the direction of the Slytherin common room. 


	4. Discussions

The next morning, Draco woke early to join Madam Hooch on the quidditch pitch. Eighth years weren’t eligible for the house teams, but Madam Hooch had taken pity on Draco and agreed to let him fly before the Hufflepuff tryouts that morning. 

Being back on a broom and in the air felt glorious. The overcast sky was perfect, and he chased a snitch around the field in the dim light. All too soon, he saw the Hufflepuffs marching onto the field, and he started a slow, lazy descent. He rolled his eyes when he spotted the American witch in the stands. What was she doing here this early on a Saturday morning? When he landed next to Madam Hooch, he straightened his jersey and watched two dozen sets of eyes follow his every move.

Only one, a blond fifth year girl, looked him up and down as if she was sizing him up. There was no disgust, just open curiosity. She met his eyes briefly, then turned and started talking to the boy next to her. Draco looked over her carefully, but didn’t recognize her. He shook it off, returning to the locker rooms top shower. 

After a long shower, he pulled on a set of casual robes in grey instead of the usual black, and started the hike up to the castle, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Other students were making their way up as well; tryouts must be going more quickly than he thought they would. 

The American witch fell in step with him. She was dressed in Muggle jeans and a black jumper, and seemed unfazed by his silent glare. 

Draco pulled his fists from his pockets, attempting to relax his hands at his sides. They walked in silence up to the second floor, approaching the classroom. The plaque he’d engraved the previous night glinted in the light, and he paused. His sleeping dragon was now accompanied by a delicately engraved rose. 

He rolled his eyes again. Of course she would have passed by it this morning on her way to breakfast. Cheeky little thing, this American witch. 

He took his seat at the desk, and she settled in her chair, making herself comfortable. Draco reached for a text on transfiguration, and rested his balled up fists on either side. He couldn’t focus on the chapter, his thoughts wandering back to the quidditch pitch. Who had that Hufflepuff been? He was wracking his brain, but couldn’t place her. More importantly, why had Rose been there watching?

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” 

“Do what.” Draco didn’t look up from the text. 

“Keep your hands in plain sight all the time. If you were going to do something you would have done it before now.” 

He glared across the room at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“For fuck’s sake don’t act stupid.” Her legs were tucked under her, a book balanced on the arm of the chair, and she glared right back. 

“I liked you better when you didn’t talk.” 

“I might like you better if you’d relax a bit.” 

“You can always leave.” He motioned to the door. 

She snorted. “And deal with several hundred other idiots that want to hear me talk for the hell of it? I’ll leave that to my sister.” She shut the book, sitting back in the chair. “I prefer not to be the resident freak show.” 

“Sister?” He arched a pale eyebrow. 

“Hope. She’s a fifth year. In the yellow house.” 

He snorted this time. The blonde from tryouts, no doubt. That answered both of his questions. “Are you going to bother learning the house names?” He crossed his arms on the desk, leaning forward. 

“Probably not.” She cocked her head, a smile playing at her lips. 

Draco shook his head, a lock of white-blond hair falling into his eyes. He reached up and brushed it out of his eyes, and he caught her watching the signet ring on his middle finger. Her own hand came up to the silver ribbon around the end of her braid. 

He clenched his fist again and set it back on the desk, returning to the transfiguration book in front of him. She shifted, and through his lashes he watched as she approached. She snatched the book out from under his gaze, turning it in her hands so she could read it. 

“This is beneath your skill level. Why are you reading it?”

“Refresher. Give me back my book.” He held his hand out, but she turned so her back was to him, leaning her hips against the desk. Draco sighed, taking another book from the pile instead of engaging. Unfortunately, that meant looking all too closely at her arse pressing attractively against the edge of the desk. 

She shifted, and Draco became all too aware of his pants tightening. He pressed his lips together, determined not to show the witch the effect she had on him. Merlin she was irritating. This was not how this year was going to go. He wasn’t going to sleep around and he definitely wasn’t going to sleep with the American. 

She turned again, sliding the open book over the top of the second he’d opened. She tapped a passage on the page in front of him. “Show me.”

“What?” He blinked up at her through thick, incongruously dark eyelashes. 

“You wanted a refresher. Do it.” She leaned closer, her eyes challenging. Draco was beginning to wonder if she had any other expressions besides indifference and challenging. He suspected not. 

“Most people prefer me not to draw my wand in their presence,” Draco said carefully, watching for the fear or disgust he was becoming so painfully accustomed to. 

“Maybe you aren't as smart than I gave you credit for. Or do you really think so lowly of me?” Her eyes softened for a split second, and Draco almost recoiled at the pain he saw in her momentarily unguarded eyes. Where had that come from? 

Instead of answering, he once again reached up and pulled her ribbon free. The silver silk shimmered, and he swallowed hard. She was waiting, her steady gaze trained on his eyes. 

He slid his wand from his pocket, and prodded the ribbon. It folded and twisted before transforming from a length of ribbon to a shimmering, solid silver rose. He held it between them, and she stroked the petals with her finger. 

“And you didn’t even have to use your words. Look at that,” she said softly. She drew her own wand, conjuring another length of silver ribbon and retied her braid. 

“Why do you wear a different color every day?” Draco flicked his wand, embedding the silver rose in her braid. 

“Each color means something different.” 

“And silver?” Draco was honestly curious now. 

“My mom says I get silver when I’m especially talkative. She says it’s a manifestation of my own silver tongue.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Mother knows best.” Draco crossed his arms. 

“Maybe.” She looked uncomfortable, and Draco felt as if he was intruding one a private moment. 

“And the others?” 

“Which others?” 

“Red, blue… I think the first one was white.” 

“You’ve been paying attention.” She raised her eyebrows slightly. 

“And you’ve been dragging your hair all over my desk in every damn class since you got here.”

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and Draco felt a triumphant rush. 

“Red is really strong emotion, anger seems to invoke it the most. Blue… Usually shows up when I’m sad or homesick. And white…” She trailed off and looked away from him, the pink across her cheeks darkening. 

“White is vulnerability.” She crossed her arms and Draco’s feeling of triumph drained into guilt. “The first day I was already running late and I didn’t have time to make myself angry or sad enough to change it. I guess I hoped nobody would ever figure it out. I avoided Hope so she wouldn’t see it until I could change it. And now…”

Draco resisted the urge to reach out for her. He wasn’t the comforting type, but something about her made him want to protect her, despite the fact that he was fairly certain that she could hex him six ways to Sunday if so inclined. This witch was something of an enigma, and Draco was intrigued. 

“Outward appearances can mean everything.” Draco uncrossed his arms, laying his fist on the desk. The emerald glinted in the dim light filtering through the windows. 

Her eyes fell to it again. 

“Why do you wear it if you hate it?” 

“Why do you literally wear your emotions on your sleeve?” 

They were back to glaring across the desk, grey to gold. She broke their stare first, returning to her armchair and opening the book. Draco shut the transfiguration text, falling back to the safety of rune translation.

An owl tapped on the window around midmorning, and when Draco opened it, the barn owl fluttered directly to Rose, dropping a letter in her lap and leaving abruptly. She scanned over it, her face schooled into neutrality but her eyes and clenched jaw betraying her anger. She folded the letter neatly, and tucked it into her bag without looking up at Draco. He put his curiosity aside and dove back into his books. 

Draco left for lunch first, sipping down to the kitchens for a plate instead of the great hall. On his way back up, he caught sight of Rose with the blonde Hufflepuff, arguing in low voices in a corner of the entrance hall. The Hufflepuff stared him down, now with a touch of distrust in her eyes as he walked calmly past. He noticed with a measure of satisfaction that the silver flower was still in Rose’s hair. 

Rose must’ve followed his lead, because fifteen minutes later she reappeared with a plate of her own. They left each other to their meals, but after Rose’s fourth aggravated huff in the space of ten minutes, he glared at her. 

“Shut up or find another assignment,” he barked at her. 

“Oh shut up yourself. Like you don’t sit over there and stew for hours on end.”

“I don’t  _ stew _ , and if I did, at least I’d be doing it quietly.”

She slammed her book shut, and for a moment he thought she was going to throw it at him. Instead, she worked her jaw before gritting out, “It’s your fault anyway, so why should I be the one that has to shut up?” 

“My fault? What the bloody hell have I done?” He was bewildered and slightly off put that he’d seemingly done something to displease her beyond their normal verbal sparring. 

She ripped an envelope from her bag, crossing the room and slamming it on the desk in front of him. She left it there, crossing her arms and stalking away from him. 

He picked it up somewhat gingerly, turning it in his hands. It was addressed to Grace Hollingsworth, not Rose. The seal was broken, but the bold, scarlet wax clearly showed an ornate letter H. Slipping the sheet from the envelope. He scanned over it. 

“Ah. So daddy dearest doesn’t want you around me. Shocking.” He calmly replaced the letter, and stood from his seat. He approached carefully, handing her the letter and leveling a stare at her. “So what are you going to do?” 

Her eyes were fire now, her anger bringing them to life. “What do you think I’m going to do? Ignore him and hex my sister the next time she inserts herself in my affairs.” 

“Affair? Is that what this is now?” He dropped his voice into what he’d been told was a good imitation of Severus’ silky drawl.

Her eyes flicked to his, the passion burning there no longer anger. He drew closer, until he couldn’t have fit their potions book between their bodies. Her eyes dropped to his lips, and he could practically read her thoughts, Legilimency not necessary. 

He chuckled coldly. “You'll have to try harder than that.” Her lips parted, and Draco pulled back, returning to his place at the desk. She wasn’t going to use him to forget her problems. 

The rest of the afternoon she was quiet. 


	5. Headmistress McGonagall

October, 1998

“Draco.”

“Hello, Severus.” The portrait of the former potions master was an excellent likeness; that was to say, he looked every bit as brooding and unapproachable in death as he had in life. Draco had not wilted under his gaze for a long time, and he wasn’t going to start now he was dead. 

“How is your mother?” 

“She’s… coping, sir.” 

He nodded, face impassive. Draco could feel the eyes of the other headmaster portraits on the wall, but he remained standing, straight-backed and still with his hand gripping the high backed chair until the door opened. 

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Malfoy.” Minerva McGonagall’s clipped Scottish brogue came from behind him, and he listened carefully, relieved when he only heard one set of footsteps. The severe-looking witch stopped behind the vast desk, looking him over carefully. “Please have a seat.” 

He waited until she was seated before sinking gracefully into the chair whose wooden back he’d been doing his best to leave a handprint in. He waited with downcast eyes, feeling much as he had before the Wizengamot. 

“Professor Slughorn tells me that you have been missing meals and are rarely seen outside of classes.” 

Draco waited for the reprimand, but none came. Instead there was a soft tinkling of china, and a teacup floated into view, within reach. He took it, nodding his thanks but not looking up. 

“Draco, I do believe that you when you expressed your desire to come back to finish your NEWTs that you agreed to come to Professor Slughorn or myself if there was anything amiss.” 

“And I would have, or will if there is, Professor.” It was said through gritted teeth, and he clutched the teacup rather harder than necessary at the insinuation. 

“All evidence points to the contrary.”

“I take my meals in the kitchens or take them to the classroom where I study. I like the quiet.” 

“There are concerns being raised by several of your professors.”

“Professor are you trying to say that my schoolwork is not satisfactory?” He dared a glance up, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Her expression was compassionate, not the despise he’d expected. The anger was understandable; the sympathy was unbearable. 

“Draco, is there anyone that is providing you support? Miss Parkinson or Mr Zabini, perhaps? Maybe Mr Nott? 

Draco bit his lip, training his eyes on the floral patterned cup while struggling to formulate an appropriate response. “They have their own pursuits. I’m not here to socialize this year, Professor.” He took a sip of the strong tea, and thought of Rose’s constant presence. 

“Draco, you have been through inordinate—“

“Professor, please excuse me, but there are plenty of students more deserving of your pity. Students that lost their families and friends.”

“Like you did?” The headmistress had rarely shown the softness that she showed now, and Draco wished it had stayed hidden. 

“All due respect, but anyone I lost should not be missed.” To his horror, tears welled in his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, lest McGonagall was to see them. 

She sighed, but did not disagree. She was silent for a while, as they sipped their tea. “I wish you know know, Draco, that many of us are impressed by your decision to come back, knowing the reactions of your peers. You’ve been diligent in your studies, so much so that Professor Sinistra has requested your help on a special project, of sorts. She has expressed to me that you are quite adept in your studies of Ancient Runes and would like you to assist her with her independent research.”

Draco’s head snapped up, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was keeping his mouth from hanging open. 

“You have far surpassed the level necessary to complete your NEWTs, and if you accept, you and one other student that also shows promise would be using the time for the NEWT level class to assist Aurora, as an internship, of sorts.” 

McGonagall’s gaze was steady on his, her cat-like eyes watching the wheels turn behind. “Do you accept?” 

“Yes! I mean, yes, please, ma’am.” He finished lamely, fighting the urge to jump from his seat. He thought he saw her mouth twitch up in a smile, but quickly dismissed the notion. 

“Very well. I will inform Professor Sinistra, and you will begin this coming Tuesday. You may go.”

He thanked her for the tea, and nodded his goodbye to Severus, who looked out of his gilt frame with a measure of what Draco perceived as… pride. 

Draco was feeling lighter than he had in ages, and he didn’t even stop to think who the other student might be until he was passing the Ancient Runes classroom on the fourth floor. Probably Granger, if he had to guess. She was insufferable, but he owed her and it seemed as though she was taking a similar approach to this year as Draco. She kept her head down, and he saw her flashes of annoyance whenever Harry Potter or the Battle was brought up. 

He brushed off the thought, thinking instead of how pleased his parents would be. Ancient Arts were a suitable pursuit for one of Draco’s class and upbringing, and if he started with even an unofficial internship, he might be able to jump into an official one during the first of the summer. Maybe in South America or Asia, where nobody knew his name. 

He wasn’t even annoyed when he swung open the door and Rose was already seated in her customary spot, balancing three books across her lap and scribbling furiously across a piece of parchment that was already past full of her very feminine handwriting. It reminded him of his mother’s, registering with a pang; all graceful lines and swirling curls. 

“Rose.”

“Draco.” Her greeting held a note of surprise. This was the first time he’d initiated their terse greeting, and he allowed himself a moment of victory at catching her off guard. 

It didn’t last long, because she then asked him, “What did the Headmistress want?” How had she known? The summons had been delivered directly to his dormitory that morning, he hadn’t even told Blaise where he was going. 

“Just routine check in with the eighth years.” He wasn’t going to show her his surprise. 

She hummed, still scribbling across the page. “I got another letter from my dad.” 

When Draco didn’t answer, she continued. “Same thing as last week. That you should have ended up in… Oh what’s it called. Not Alcatraz…”

“Azkaban,” Draco supplied flatly. 

“Azkaban, yeah. He went on quite the rant.”

“Is there a reason you’re telling me this? I’m all too aware of what people think of me.” 

“I’m telling you because I think it’s all… what’s the word you guys use for trash?” 

“Rubbish?” 

“Exactly.” She looked up from her parchment, closing two of the three books. “And I’m not going to run because a man that’s only ever seen you in court says you’re scary. I’ve already spent more time with you in the past two weeks than I have with him in the past two years, so he can shove it. I like you, despite your martyr complex.”

“I don’t have a martyr—“

“Shut up, Draco.” She said the last bit with a smile. 

Despite himself, he smiled as he opened his charms textbook, thinking that the witch may not be so bad after all.


	6. Ancient Runes

When Tuesday finally rolled around, he was looking forward to Ancient Runes not for his stretch of Rose-free time, but to find out what Aurora Sinistra’s special project was and who the other student would be. He’d actually started walking with Rose between classes, seeing as they had the same schedule and sat next to each other anyway. It had the added bonus of a reduced likelihood that he would be spoken to. 

Today however, he was out the door before Flitwick had finished squeaking out his dismissal, leaving Rose to make it next door to their classroom without him. 

In the Ancient Runes classroom, Professor Sinistra gave him a genuine smile, ushering him through into her spacious office. She was a young witch for a professor; even younger than Severus had been. Her long, inky black hair was pulled back into a twisted chignon, her wand stuck through it. Draco was fond of her not just because she had been a Slytherin during her time as a student, but she was one of the few that hadn’t treated him any differently since he’d returned to the school. 

“Draco! I’m so glad you said yes. This project is a bit delicate, but I think you’ll find it’s a worthy challenge.”

“Professor McGonagall said it was a personal project? I didn’t know you had a particular fondness for Ancient Runes. I thought Astronomy was more your focus.” 

She awarded him with a conspiratorial smile. “My mastery is in Ancient Runes. Astronomy was just to get my foot in the door here. Severus is probably rolling in his grave now that I have it and he’s not here to tell me ‘I told you so.”

Draco smirked. “Honestly, he'd probably be rolling in his grave just to know I’m not considering a potions mastery. He’s fine.”

The tall woman smiled wider. “He’d be proud of you anyway. But enough of this. I’m sure Severus’s indignance at being spoken of extends post mortem. Your project partner should be here shortly, and I’ll explain further.”

“Excuse me, ma’am. Professor McGonagall didn’t tell me who I’d be working with. Who…?”

“Oh she’s a seventh year Ravenclaw. She’s a new—“ 

“Transfer from Ilvermorny.” The voice from the door had Draco spinning on his heel, the urge to groan almost overwhelming. The American witch stood in the doorway, her own smirk solidly in place. “If you had given me half a second we could have come up together.”

“Oh so you know each other?” Professor Sinistra looked delighted, and Draco clenched his jaw. 

“Oh yeah. We’re study partners in every class. And then some.” She looked like a cat that had cornered an injured bird, satisfied and downright predatory. 

“That’s great. You’ll be able to dive right in then.” She seemed oblivious to Draco’s frustration and Rose’s smug victory, pulling a large portfolio from a cabinet behind her desk, and crossing the room to a blackboard that dominated the wall to the left of the door. 

“These are duplicates of documents found in a ministry raid of some of the older wizarding families’ vaults after the war ended. The ministry handed them off to me, asking for translations. They are believed to either be old family legends or stories that haven’t been seen for a century or two, but the ministry wasn’t sure. Personally, I’m inclined to think they’re transcripts of prophecies, but it’s hard to know for sure.”

“Do you know which family they belonged to? That may help with context.” Draco leaned closer to the first sheet, the Runes rippling lazily over the parchment. He caught a few bits, something about a moon and a plant or flower, he thought. 

“The ministry wouldn’t disclose that to me, unfortunately. All I know is that it was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.” He nodded distractedly, trying to pin down a line that looked oddly familiar but he couldn’t place. 

“Sacred Twenty-Eight?” Rose’s braid with its butter-yellow bow trailed across the parchment. Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Hair, witch. And the Sacred Twenty-Eight refers to the remaining 28 pure-blooded families that can be traced back to the time of the Hogwarts founders, specifically Salazar Slytherin himself.” 

She snorted, but moved her hair. “Let me guess. You’re one of them.” 

He didn’t look up, still focused on the same line. “Of course I am.” He wiggled his hand and emerald signet ring in her general direction. 

“Well then. I’ll leave you two to it. Let me know if you have any questions.” Professor Sinistra left the door open, but Draco was already pulling the sheet free, approaching the blackboard. 

He copied the line that had caught his eye, writing the English translation neatly beneath it. 

“The dragon born of silver and black will rise,” Rose read from the board. “What the hell does that mean?” 

Draco shrugged. “No idea.”

“Okay then. Well since you’re already getting that one, I’ll start on this sheet and we can compare notes in a bit?”

“Fine by me.” He stood at the board and Rose took a blank piece of parchment and a quill to make notations at Sinstra’s desk. They worked quietly together for nearly an hour, the scraping of chalk and the scratching of the quill filling the silence. At some point Draco realized someone had put a silencing charm up because he couldn’t hear the class or Professor Sinistra’s instruction. His realization was interrupted by Rose’s exclamation.

“Oh my god, that's it!” 

She pushed past Draco, and grabbed a piece of chalk and started drawing runes on the blackboard, covering the space around when he’d already made translations. None of it made sense to Draco, so he sat down at the desk and let her go, a steady stream of words punctuated by the occasional curse falling from her lips. 

When she was done, her black robes was covered in white dust, and there was a smear of white across her forehead where she’d pushed her hair out of her face. 

“It’s not a curse. It’s a love story!” Her golden brown eyes sparkled, and Draco just stared. 


	7. Translations

The blackboard was filled with runes and pieces of translation, all disjointed and scattered. 

“That is not a story or a curse,” Draco drawled, crossing his arms. “That looks like a mess.” 

“Hold your hippogriffs. I needed space.” She was already leaning over the desk, quill flying across the page. She paused, eyebrows furrowing. She drew a line and continued on. She got halfway down the page before discarding the quill and reading over it one last time. 

“Here.” She handed it over to him, looking pleased. 

_ “There was a time of cleanliness  _

_ And ancient wisdom stood, _

_ Though the time will come  _

_ For the thread to break.  _

_ “It will start with the daughter of darkness  _

_ Born a shining light after grey(?),  _

_ Her duty ________  _

_ Though love abound in time.  _

_ "Her love will lead _

_ And turn the heart _

_ Of cold light gone dim _

_ To show the way of new."  _

“This makes no sense.” Draco dropped the sheet on the desk, and waved his translations at her. 

“ _The dragon born of silver and black will rise… Amulet curses seek to throw… The flower blooms in foreign lands…_ “ Rose flung the paper at him. “These don’t make sense either.”

Draco sat back in the chair. “This feels like a waste of time. I suppose that’s why the Ministry passed it off.” 

Rose leaned back against the desk, her hips pressing against the lip, making Draco squirm in his chair. For Salazar’s sake, he needed to get himself under control. 

“I dunno. It might be something important to someone’s family. I don’t get the first bit though. ‘Cleanliness?’ Why would someone care about how clean their sewing thread is?” 

“Let me see the runes.” She passes them back and tapped the sheet where she’d started. He pulled his copy of Spellman’s Syllabary and flipped through the pages. 

“I think this is actually closer to ‘purity’ and ‘line,” like a family line. Which would make more sense in the context of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families.” He kept scanning down the page. “And this spot… ‘ _her duty will tear asunder the cross of life’_?”

Rose leaned over him, watching him notate her parchment. 

“Cross? Are the old families Roman?” 

“I know my family has Greco-Roman roots. Draco, Lucius, Abraxas… So did my mother’s family; Narcissa, Andromeda, Cygnus... You get the picture. I would assume the others as well. Why?” 

“Crosses, crucifixion… It’s mainly Christian symbology but it started because that’s how the Roman nomajes would execute people, though Ireland in particular has a deep seeded Christian culture.”

“Nomajes?” Draco chuckled. 

“Fine. Muppets then.” Rose rolled her eyes as he laughed even harder. 

“Muggles. You’re looking for the word muggles,” he wheezed, hunched over the desk. 

Professor Sinistra chose that moment to come back in, stopping in the doorway, her eyes growing wide at the normally stoney faced student doubled over, and the American covered in chalk dust and glaring petulantly at him over her shoulder. 

“Nomaj. No magic. At least our term makes sense! Muggle is one of the stupidest things you guys have come up with since the creation of a school that thought grouping all the stupid ones together was a good idea.” 

Draco cackled, grabbing his sides, neither of them noticing the teacher in the doorway. “Please tell me you mean the Gryffindors!” 

“The red ones. They all think they’re invincible. One of them was on the roof of their stupid tower last week because they didn’t believe that theirs and ours were the same height. Why they thought putting several dozen reckless teenagers together was a good idea is beyond me. And then there are you green assholes—“ 

“I’m going to stop you right there, Miss Hollingsworth, as much as I’d like to know your opinion on my former house.” Professor Sinistra stepped further into the room. 

Rose’s cheeks flushed deep red, and Draco felt tears escape, sliding down his cheeks even as he thought his lungs would burst. 

“Mr Malfoy, I suggest you pull yourself together, or you’ll be late for your next class.”

He was still chuckling when they took their seats in transfiguration. 


	8. Missing

Mid-October, 1998

Two weeks later, Draco stood at the blackboard, writing out pieces of the translation that he remembered, trying to make sense of it. He kept circling back to “the dragon born of silver and black will rise.” He was cycling through his knowledge of dragon breeds, but couldn’t come up with one that was silver and black. The closest he could think of was the Syrian Ashcloud, but it was a dark grey, neither silver nor true black. 

“Hey. What was that bit about curses?” He turned back to Rose, but she was nodding off in her chair. He threw a piece of chalk at her, and her head came up slowly. 

“Huh?” Her skin was flushed, and he could see strands of hair sticking to the sides of her face, even with her outer robes thrown off and her blue tie hanging over the back of her chair. 

“The translation. Do you remember the bit about a curse?” 

“Uhm…” she squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Amulet curses look… or seek… something.”

“ _Amulet curses seek to throw_ , that’s it.” He turned back around to scribble it on the board, but turned back around when he was done. The girl still had her hand pressed to her forehead, and he could see the glimmer of perspiration on her neck. 

“You should go see Pomfrey. You look awful.” 

She shook her head, but was too tired to argue. “I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“It’s not even seven! Seriously. Pomfrey will help.” Draco crossed his arms, seriously considering dragging her to the school’s matron himself. 

“I'm just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She picked up her bag and robes, moving far more slowly than normal. 

Draco shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He turned back to the board, and tried to think of his father had ever mentioned a cursed amulet. He grew frustrated after a while, and was pacing the length of the room when he spotted the blue and bronze striped tie still draped over the back of the armchair. He considered leaving it for her to retrieve herself, but at the last moment grabbed it on his way out, shoving it in his bag. He’d give it back in charms first thing in the morning. 

But she wasn’t in Charms the next morning. Or Defense Against the Dark Arts. Transfiguration and History of Magic were likewise missing the American witch. He thought he’d enjoy the peace and quiet without her, but he spent the entire day on edge. After dinner he took two steps into the classroom before backtracking and stalking into the charms classroom. Professor Flitwick was on his pile of cushions behind his desk, a stack of essays nearly obscuring him from view completely. 

“Professor. Rose Hollingsworth wasn’t in any of her classes today.” Draco felt like he was going to explode from nervous energy, and he couldn’t sit still. 

“That is correct Mr Malfoy,” the tiny wizard squeaked, seemingly unconcerned. 

“Where is she?” Draco’s jaw hurt from clenching his teeth to keep from yelling at the Ravenclaw Head of House, and his hands were clenched in tight fists at his side. 

“Miss Hollingsworth has the flu. She’s being tended to in the hospital wing as of about noon.” The professor peered you at him from over the numerous rolls of parchment. “Is everything alright?” 

“I told her to go last night. She wasn’t feeling well then either.” Draco felt a spike of anger at Rose for not listening to him. 

“I don’t believe it would have made a difference when she went, it’s a particularly nasty bout from my understanding.” The little wizard narrowed his eyes. “Though I’m sure she would welcome some company, if you’re so inclined.” 

Draco cleared his throat. “I’ll just take her assignments then.” He turned on his heel and left the charms professor staring after him, suppressing a smile. 

The hospital wing was well-known to Draco, considering his history in the castle, but he’d never been so nervous to go in before. He was in the middle of talking himself out of going in for the fourth time when Astoria Greengrass came up behind him. 

“Hey Draco.” He jumped, a slight flush creeping down his neck. “You okay?” The tall brunette cocked her head at him, and pulled the door open herself, motioning for him to go ahead of her. 

Seeing no way out of it now, he moved forward into the ward. Several of the beds were partitioned off, and he had no way of knowing which was Rose’s. 

“Are you okay? You look a bit pale.” Astoria followed him in, her bright blue eyes narrowing. 

He cleared his throat. “I’m fine. I was just bringing Rose Hollingsworth her assignments.” Astoria looked surprised, but didn’t comment. 

“Let me put my bag away and I’ll help you find her.” She moved towards Madam Pomfrey’s office, putting her bag down and pulling on a white apron. She picked up what looked like a clipboard from a table, and looked it over. She set it down before waving Draco over to a partitioned off bed near the center of the ward. 

She disappeared between the curtains, and came back with a chart. “She’s sleeping, but you can leave her things or wait for her to wake up. She’s one of the unlucky ones the pepperup potion didn’t work for, so she just has to wait it out.” She looked sympathetic, and shrugged. 

“I didn’t realize you were intending on going into MediMagic.” Draco shifted on his feet, feeling awkward. Astoria just gave him a warm smile. 

“Yeah. Madam Pomfrey has been letting me work with her to get a leg up before I sit for my NEWTs next year. It’s been great. I’m hoping to intern with St Mungo’s next summer for even more experience. Mother thinks it’s pointless, but Father says I might as well develop some skills. I think he just doesn’t expect me to marry anyone he considers worthwhile though.” She rolled her eyes and laughed. 

“I don’t really care though. I like MediMagic. It makes me feel more useful than someone’s arm candy and heir incubator.” 

Draco snorted, clenching his hand around the strap of his bag, his signet ring cutting into his finger. “Try being the heir. It’s not any better, I assure you.” 

She grimaced. “I can only imagine. Manny seems to thrive on it, though. So.. whatever. Anyway.” She smiled shyly, as if she thought she’d said too much. “I gotta get started, so I’ll see you.” 

“Hey, thanks Astoria. I appreciate it.”

“Tori. And anytime, Draco.” She turned away with a smile and Draco slipped through the curtains to Rose’s bedside. 

She looked awfully pale against the white hospital sheets, her chestnut hair a stark contrast. It had come loose from her braid, and the dusty pale blue ribbon at the end of it looked wilted and sad. 

He thought about leaving her things, and escaping back to their classroom, but his stomach clenched at the thought of the empty classroom, knowing she wouldn’t be joining him. So he sat down in one of the chairs, pulling out a piece of parchment to start the essay that Professor Sprout had assigned the previous morning on the Patterned Pinchilious. 

Draco thought it was a nasty little plant; one bite and it could kill you, or just permanently leave a limb frozen. Even with the antidote, a bitten limb could be left semi-frozen for weeks or months. Unfortunately, it was a valuable and versatile potion ingredient, and worth the trouble, especially in MediMagic. 

His thoughts circled back around to Astoria; Tori. Her brother Coleman, or Manny as he preferred, was several years older, and while Draco hadn’t known him well, but he seemed to be the perfect Sacred Twenty-Eight heir. He was well known and already respected, practically running the Greengrass’s printing empire. They produced more spellbooks and magical texts than anyone else in Europe, and yet Astoria wanted to go into MediMagic. 

Draco didn’t know her well, either. Her sister Daphne was in his year, and was usually hanging around Pansy, but he’d found her annoying and usually tuned her out. Astoria seemed to be the polar opposite of her sister, down to her dark hair and easy smile. But then, Narcissa was much the same; the only blonde-haired, blue-eyed sister in the Black family. 

His thoughts of Astoria, Narcissa, and the Patterned Pinchilious were driven away when Rose coughed and then moaned, shifting in the bed. He sat bolt upright, unsure of what to do for her until she blinked up blearily at him. 

“What time is it?” Her voice was dry and rough, and Draco poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the table next to her before answering. 

“About half six.” She accepted the glass gratefully, sitting up and wincing. After she’d drank her fill and handed the glass back, her voice still sounded rough, but it was much improved. 

“I feel awful.” Draco snorted, sitting back in his chair with a disapproving look on his face. 

“I told you to come in last night. The pepperup might have worked if you’d come in sooner.”

“Doubt it.” She closed her eyes, leaning back into the pillows. “Are you going to sit here and lecture me though?” 

Draco sighed. “No. But you’re missing a ton in class. So lucky for you, I take better notes than you do.” Her eyes snapped open, some of her fire and indignation back now. 

“My notes are fine.”

“They’ll do.” He smirked. “Do you want to look them over now, or wait til you feel better?” She glared at him, holding her hand out. Draco passed her his History of Magic notes and returned to his Herbology essay. 

They were working silently when Astoria stopped by with a tray of food for Rose. She looked between the two, a smile playing at her full lips, but stayed quiet. She came back after Rose had finished eating to cast a simple diagnostic spell over the girl. She bit her bottom lip, and turned to Draco. 

“I hate to be the bad guy, but Rose needs rest. No more homework tonight.” 

Draco didn’t even blink, just leaned over and snatched his notes from the other girl’s hands. 

“Hey!” Rose protested, but fell silent at Draco’s arched eyebrow. 

“You heard her. No more homework.” 

“Fine. What about not-homework thinking?” Rose glared at the Slytherin girl, who shrugged. 

“If Pomfrey catches your diagnostic looking any worse, he might get kicked out, but it might be harmless… So your choice.” Rose huffed as she left with the empty tray.

“I’ll take my chances. How far did you get on the translation after I left last night?” 


	9. Unexpected Developments

Draco extracted the piece of parchment he’d been doodling on all day without Rose there to distract him in class. In one corner, he’d begun listing possible dragons that it could have been referencing. In another, he’d drawn out the runes for the line he’d been asking about. “ _ Amulet curses seek to throw. _ ” Under it, he’d written “cursed amulet?” 

“Absolutely nowhere. And without the originals, I couldn’t even work on any of the other parts to it. I asked Sinistra today, but she had to go to a staff meeting and couldn’t get them for me, but she promised to make duplicates so you and I can both have a copy.”

“Well, I suppose that’s something at least.” She reached up and untied her hair, rebraiding it while she stared unseeing at a spot of curtain. “Maybe ask Sprout about the flower?” 

Draco snorted. “Sprout isn’t my biggest fan. Maybe you should ask her.” He took the sheet back, and started drawing aimlessly in the corner. Rose hummed, her fingers working through her hair until she reached the bottom, reaching for her wand and conjuring a new ribbon. This one flowed from her wand tip in a pretty shade of buttercup yellow. She tied it around the bottom of her braid, and tapped her wand against her thigh. 

“What about the pieces I did?  _ The daughter of darkness _ ?” Draco scowled at his parchment.

“I hate to break it to you, but a lot of the Sacred Twenty-Eight have dark witches and wizards in the family; mine some of the worst of all. You can’t get any darker than Aunt Bella. Literally or figuratively.” 

Rose cocked her head. “What do you mean literally?” Draco sighed. This is not what he wanted to talk about. Now, or ever.

“Bella was my mother’s sister. The Black family all have dark hair and eyes.”

“You don’t.” She eyed his white-blond hair, and he tried not to react, still drawing on the parchment in his lap.

“Both of my parents are blond, so it makes sense that I don’t, doesn’t it,” he snapped.

“Calm down. You know I don’t know a thing about all of your old families. So your parents are blond. What does that have to do with the price of wheat in China?” He rolled his eyes again. 

“You asked. Bella just had dark coloring, to go with her penchant for the Dark Arts. Literal and figurative.” 

“Well if you all marry each other and have for the past several hundred years, it would make sense that a lot of you would have the same genetic disposition for dark hair or whatever.” 

“I suppose so. Though some of the families are split like my mother and Bella. Astoria and Daphne for instance.” She pointed to where Astoria had disappeared with the tray, a questioning look on her face. He just nodded. 

“Daphne is nearly as blonde as I am, but Astoria’s hair is darker than yours. Both of their eyes are blue though. The Parkinson’s are like that too…” He trailed off. “I”m just saying. The stupid thing could be speaking literally, in which case we’re out of luck, or figuratively, and we’re still out of luck. We need more of it translated, and even then I don’t know if any of it will make sense. If it’s a story, it happened centuries ago. If it’s a prophecy, it may never happen. Some of them don’t.” 

“I freakin hate divination. It’s completely worthless,” she huffed. 

“You have no idea,” Draco grumbled darkly. He’d learned of the extent of the prophecy that had made Potter into the “Chosen One” during his trial, and it still made him angry. It was part of the reason he hadn’t tried to have a discussion with Snape’s portrait, and why he’d avoided Sybil Trelawney at all costs. 

Rose went quiet, and Draco kept drawing until a dragon devoured the bottom corner of the parchment. When he glanced up again, Rose was asleep again, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He packed his things away as quietly as he could, slipping out of the curtained area before she woke up again. 

Astoria was standing a few beds down, juggling several charts and an empty tray when he passed. He stopped to take the tray to keep it all tumbling to the floor. 

“Thanks.” She shuffled the charts around and took the tray again. She opened her mouth to speak and then stopped, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. 

“What?” Draco shifted on his feet, nervous for whatever she was going to say next. 

“I just…” She cleared her throat. “I just wondered if you wanted to wait just a minute, and walk down to the common room with me. I’m almost done.” Whatever Draco had been expecting, that was not it. “You don’t have to,” she said quickly. “I just thought you might like the company.” She turned away, disappearing into the store room.

Draco stood frozen to the spot until she reemerged sans apron, and took her bag from the table next to Madam Pomfrey’s office. He wasn’t entirely sure what kept him there, except that Rose and Astoria had been the two people besides Pansy and Blaise that had actually treated him like a human being. 

Her blue eyes lit up when she came back to him still waiting awkwardly where she’d left him, as if she’d been given a surprise gift. Draco couldn’t fathom why she was so pleased, but he shook it off, and held the door open for her. 

Astoria was quiet as they proceeded down the corridor. She set a slow, relaxed pace, almost as if she was walking through a decorative garden rather than the castle. Draco fell into step beside her, silently berating himself for being suddenly so ineloquent. 

“So you and the Ravenclaw, huh?” Astoria peeked up at him with a cheeky smile. Draco rolled his eyes, a trace of his arrogant aloofness appearing. 

“There is no ‘me and the Ravenclaw.’ We study together.” 

“Right. Sure.” She clearly didn’t believe him, and he bristled. 

“Not all of us are here to establish a marriage contract,” he spat. She pinned him with a cool stare. 

“The only one I know if trying to do that is Daphne, and we all know she’s not going to get anywhere with Zabini. But who said anything about marriage?” 

“You know as well as I do that we’re expected to marry and marry well.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun while you still have some freedom, and she’s good for you. That’s all I’m saying.” Draco stopped dead in the middle of the staircase, staring in disbelief at the back of Astoria’s head.

“You don’t even know us.” Draco couldn’t keep the sneer off his face, but Astoria didn’t look back. 

“I bet I know you better than you think.” Her words didn’t hold any animosity, and it wasn’t a threat, but Draco still was unsure of what she meant. She reached the bottom of the staircase and waited for Draco to join her before continuing. 

“Anyway. Are you coming to the party tomorrow night? Gryffindors are hosting, so it’ll be entertaining.” Astoria seemed unfazed by his irritation. 

“Adding me to a room full of inebriated Gryffindors is just asking for trouble. Besides, I’m busy.” Draco fought to stay collected, but Astoria seemed to know how to get under his skin just as well as Rose did. 

“I don’t think so, but suit yourself. What did you think of the game last week?” 

Talking about quidditch smoothed over their rocky start, and they were still comparing Slytherin’s past players when they reached the dungeons. Draco hadn’t played with her, but Astoria was a chaser on Slytherin’s team and he’d seen her fly. She was better than most of the ones he’d been on the team with, and he regretted not having the chance to play with her. 

Astoria stopped him before splitting to their respective dorms. 

“Hey… Do you want to come fly with me Saturday?” We have the pitch at eight, but we could go early.” She smiled warmly, and Draco couldn’t say no. He agreed to meet her at six thirty, and then he was sliding into bed wondering what the hell happened, and he fell asleep pondering the day’s unexpected developments. 


	10. Flying

The next day was Friday, and Draco lingered in bed, dreading going to class alone. He slipped into his seat in potions with only seconds to spare before Slughorn started talking. The day dragged, and it was only the promise of some time on the quidditch pitch the next morning that got him through his classes. 

Ancient Runes was particularly painful without Rose, and he’d ended up pacing the length of Professor Sinistra’s office for most of the hour, the line  _ “The golden hearth to join with silver, Unite the world of moonlit shadows,”  _ taunting him. 

By the time Professor Sinistra came in, he was in a foul mood and he was thanking Salazar his day was over. Unfortunately, the thought of returning to the empty classroom held about as much appeal as snuggling with a Patterned Pinchilious, so he made the hike back up to the hospital wing on the sixth floor. 

There Madame Pomfrey was busy dealing with a fourth year Hufflepuff who appeared to have a series of large blue spines erupting from his shoulders and arms, so he skirted past and approached Rose’s bed. He slid between the partition and stopped dead in his tracks. 

Whichever of the sisters cast the silencing charm did it exceptionally well, because his ears were ringing the second he stepped into the space. The younger Hollingsworth girl was screaming at Rose, who was shouting right back, her voice hoarse. Draco stood rooted to the spot, and both girls stopped. Rose looked resigned, but Hope just looked enraged at his presence. 

“THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!” She found her voice, gesturing at Draco and yelling at Rose. “DAD IS MAD ENOUGH AND YOU JUST KEEP MAKING IT WORSE!”

“I DON’T CARE WHAT DAD SAYS. STAY OUT OF IT, HOPE!” 

“DON’T BE SUCH A BITCH!” 

Draco made to turn around to leave, but Rose hit him with a leg-lock jinx before he could turn around, and it was all he could do to stay upright. 

“You stay.” She shifted her attention to her sister. “You get lost. And feel free to stay that way.” 

The blonde turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Rose glaring after her and Draco with a newfound appreciation that he was an only child. Once Hope was gone, she released the jinx and Draco bent his legs, scowling at her.

“You could have used  _ please. _ ” He dropped into the chair he’d been in the night before, pulling out the copies of the rune sheets. 

“Sorry,” she rasped, wincing. Draco passed her a glass of water, and she took a sip. “I’ve never been so glad to see you. Outstanding timing.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “How long was Little Miss Sunshine in here hurling insults?” 

“Too long. Pomfrey felt the need to inform my mom that I was sick, so of course dad sent the flying monkey to deliver his message when I couldn’t escape.”

“Flying monkey?” Draco gave her a puzzled look. 

“They’re the evil witch’s minions in  _ The Wizard of Oz _ .” Rose shook her head. “Never mind. Did you get anywhere on the translations today?” She spread the runes out over the bed, and they were debating whether or not one rune denoted  _ light  _ or  _ life  _ when a redheaded Ravenclaw brought in a dinner tray for Rose. 

She picked at the vegetables and the dinner roll, but left the salmon and the apple untouched. Draco raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged. 

“I don’t eat fish and green apples are gross. Fruit should not make your salivary glands revolt.” Draco leaned forward and snatched the apple from the tray, smirking at her distaste. “Figures you would be a masochist.”

He rolled his eyes and took a bite, returning to his sheet of translations. 

“What do you make of the bit about the healer?” She tapped a line of runes. 

“I would say guardian, but it’s not quite right… and maybe a bond…” Draco took another bite of the apple, flipping through the  _ Syllabary.  _

“I read it as a vow, not a bond…” Rose sighed. “I can’t do this anymore. Please tell me something interesting is happening outside of this stupid room. Are you going to that party tonight?”

Draco snorted. “I’m rather attached to all of my body parts, so no. I will not be going. Plus I’m going flying with Astoria early tomorrow morning.” 

“Ohh the pretty one from yesterday?” Rose perked up, looking far too interested. “She’s one of your type too, isn’t she?”

“One of my type?” Draco arched an eyebrow, decidedly unimpressed. 

“Pureblood. Sacred twenty eight and all that jazz.” She grinned. 

“And?” He turned back to the book, not interested in having this conversation. 

“And is she single?” 

“No idea.”

“You should ask her out.”

“Thank you, Mother. But no. I’m not here to date.” 

“You have to think she’s pretty.” 

“Not my type.”

“What is your type then?”

“Not her.” 

“Why not?”

“Rose?” He finally looked up from the book to see her grinning, her eyes sparkling. 

“Draco?” Her honeyed tones were not going to get her anywhere. 

“Shut up about my love life or I’m leaving.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Wait who invited who to fly?

“Drop it, witch.” He set the apple core back on the tray, knowing full well he wasn’t going to leave, but he might throw the core at her if she didn’t let it go.

“It was a valid question! You’re so worried about what everyone thinks, it’s a good sign if she asked you! I mean she probably likes you.” He shot her a withering look. “Okay, okay.” She held her hands up in surrender. 

She behaved herself for the rest of the evening, but fell asleep early again, and he left feeling confused. 

He woke up the next morning feeling just as confused as he’d been the night before. Astoria didn’t fancy him. She’d just invited him to be nice. And she  _ was  _ a Slytherin. She probably needed something from him. Rose was just being a busybody. 

But Astoria greeted him in the common room with a warm smile, her long hair pulled back from her face in a ponytail. She  _ was _ pretty, not that that he was going to admit that to Rose. She was tall and willowy, much like his mother, but her dark hair contrasted sharply with her blue eyes.

On the pitch, Astoria brought out a quaffle and challenged him to a one on one. He was out of practice as a chaser or keeper, but he agreed and they kicked off together. Draco fell back into it easily, and he admired her expert broom handling. She flew with a finesse that was more common with seekers than chasers, and they fell into familiar flight patterns, diving and gliding through the air. The cold air and speed were exhilarating, and as they swooped and sped around each other, he caught her grinning. 

They were tied as the rest of the Slytherin team started to filter onto the field. As a last-ditch effort, Draco snatched the quaffle out of the air, spinning and rolling past Astoria to score one last goal. 

“Not bad for an old man, Malfoy,” she called as they descended. 

“Not too bad yourself, Greengrass.” He was grinning as they landed. Astoria’s cheeks were flushed and her dark hair was tangled from being whipped around, but her blue eyes danced as some of her teammates approached. 

“Same time next week then, Draco?” He caught the quaffle she tossed him easily, and he smirked. 

“I suppose I’ll let you try to redeem yourself.” 

After a shower, he trailed into the Great Hall for breakfast, famished after the workout. He was shocked to find Rose sitting at the end of the Slytherin table, her copy of  _ 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi  _ propped up again a carafe of orange juice and her Patterned Pinchilious essay nearly complete. 

“Don’t you have your own house table to occupy?” Despite his jab, he sat down across from her and served himself some eggs and sausage, Rose passing him a cup of coffee. 

“So how was it?” She smirked at him over the textbook. 

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Do you want to be put back in the hospital wing?” 

“That good huh? Should I start planning my outfit for the wedding now, or…” the rest of her words were muffled as she dodged the triangle of toast he threw at her. 

She re-emerged still smirking, but returned her attention to the essay. She was somehow finishing it as Draco was finishing his breakfast, and together they headed up to their classroom. 


	11. Relaxing

They settled into their customary spots, the familiarity of their routine relaxing. It was odd, Draco thought, that he was so quickly becoming comfortable with the American witch. He supposed it came with near-constant exposure, and the fact that she treated him like a normal person, despite what she knew of his history and the pressure from her parents to avoid his company. 

Whatever caused it, he didn’t much care. He didn’t have to worry if she could see his hands at all times, she didn’t mind when he used casual magic around her, and best of all, she was equally relaxed around him. 

Their professors were noticing, and he supposed some of the more attentive students were as well, because he wasn’t getting as many petrified looks whenever he came into a classroom or retrieved ingredients from the potion’s store cupboard. 

He and Astoria had taken to playing quidditch every Saturday morning, and a few of the other Slytherins joined them on occasion. After six weeks, he could anticipate every move she’d make, and he was running out of moves to trick her. 

His friendship with Rose was likewise becoming more predictable. Verbal sparring and heated debates kept them both on their toes, but she could read him like a book, and he was quickly learning the nuances of her body language and the colors of her hair ribbons. 

Mid November found Draco at the desk in their classroom, as usual. But instead of being deeply buried in his studies, Draco stared out of the window. The snow was coming down heavily, the large, fluffy, but white flakes falling fast when the door swung open, and Rose entered. He saw her reflection in the window, but didn’t turn to greet her. 

“I can’t even get some peace in the bloody library.” The curse usually earned her an exaggerated eye roll from Draco, but he didn’t reply. The corners of her mouth turned down, but she dropped her bag into her armchair and started to root around for something. Rose watched him from the corner of her eye until she saw him surreptitiously wipe his eyes. She stopped, setting a roll of parchment on the cushion of the chair, the room silent.

“Draco?” 

“Rose?” 

“Are you okay?” She asked him gently, her voice low, almost as if she was trying to keep her words from penetrating too far into the room itself. 

“I miss them.” His voice was equally soft, his eyes still glued to the window. “I miss how it was.” 

Rose stayed where she was, unsure if he would allow her to come any closer. 

“The last Christmas I got with them before the world was at war was my third year.” He absentmindedly fingered his signet ring again, a motion Rose was beginning to understand meant that he was thinking of his parents. He didn’t say any more, and she didn’t press. Draco watched the snow, and Rose watched Draco. 

She crossed the room, and deliberately stood next to him, leaning her hips back against the desk to look out the window with him. This was as close as they’d gotten in the past two and a half months. In potions over their cauldron, in Professor Sinastra’s office pouring over old texts. Close, but never touching. Draco no longer stiffened when she got within a foot of him, but he was still careful when he moved not to brush against her. 

When the hand landed on his shoulder, he froze. Rose squeezed gently, and Draco had to force himself to breathe. He counted to ten before he opened his mouth.

“Why?” He didn’t trust himself to say any more, his voice dangerously close to breaking.

“Because you’re hurting… And I didn’t know what else I could do for you.” Her voice was still soft and low, the bubble around them seeming to close in. “Is it okay?” She lifted her hand, the pressure on his shoulder dissipating slightly. He gave a short, sharp nod of his head, and the pressure returned. 

Draco hadn’t realized how starved he was of this connection, and he nearly cried out when Rose swept her hand across his shoulders. He bit his lip to keep quiet, and bowed his head, letting her rub his back. He was faintly aware that his shoulders were beginning to shake, but he was only truly ashamed when the tears started dripping from his cheeks onto his lap. He tried to brush them away, but they kept coming. Rose whispered, and a cotton handkerchief was conjured into his hands. 

He was grateful to her for not saying anything while continuing to stroke his back and shoulders. Draco didn’t know how long they stayed like that, his face pressed into the handkerchief, his elbows braced against his knees and the American witch making slow, wide passes with her hand. When he sat up, she withdrew her hand and folded her arms across her chest, staring out the window rather than at him. He straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. 

“Better?” She asked mildly, as if he’d just taken a sip of warm coffee after being outside in the snow, not been crying his eyes out in front of her. Draco just nodded, and she returned to her arm chair. The rest of the evening was quiet, and Draco inexplicably trusted that she wouldn’t say anything. He thought that would be the end of it. 

He was proven wrong the next day, when she sidled behind him in potions and let her hand linger on his arm. It felt as if his arm was on fire under her touch, and he glanced around to see who was staring. Nobody he could tell was paying him and Rose any mind, and she ignored his glare. She did keep her hands to herself for the remainder of the class, so he relaxed again by the end of it— until she did it again in Herbology. 

This continued for over a week. Rose would touch his arm when she laughed at something he said or to get his attention in class. He was finding that nobody seemed to pay any mind, which allowed him to ease into it. His quips would be rewarded with not just a laugh anymore, but a touch as well. 

In potions the first Wednesday in December, he was keeping a running commentary under his breath on who would ruin their polishing potion first, causing Rose to double over, taking his arm to stay upright. This time he caught Granger with her eyebrows halfway to her bushy brown hair, but she seemed to be the only one and looked away quickly. A second time as they were leaving caught the attention of Hufflepuff Ernie McMillan and Ravenclaw’s Michael Corner. 

After an uncomfortable hour with half the class shooting furtive glances between them, he sighed in relief to leave the humid air for the biting cold. When she loopedy her arm through his on their way from the greenhouse to dinner, he yanked her into an alcove behind a tapestry depicting a 12th century dragon tamer. 

“What are you doing?” It came out as a hiss, and it wasn’t until she put her hand on his chest that he realized how small of a space they were currently occupying. Draco took a step back and hit the wall. She followed, smiling with a wicked glint in the dim light. 

“I had an idea.”

“You Ravenclaws and your damned ideas. I want no part of it.”

“But it’s mutually beneficial.” Her smile took on an edge fit for a Slytherin, and he narrowed his eyes. 

“Go on then.” 

“You look more approachable and accepting with a half-blood hanging off your arm, and I get to send a nice big “fuck you” to my father before I head back to the US at the end of term. Everyone thinks we’re dating anyway, we might as well make it work in our favor.” 

“You should have been in Slytherin. But I fail to see why you want to start this right before you go home for the holidays.” Draco arched a pale eyebrow, and she flushed. 

“I’ll be turning of age two days after the end of term. We’re going to be in the US with my grandparents on my mother’s side, and my dad won’t be there. He’ll find out through the grapevine but he won’t risk making a scene with my Muggle grandparents watching.” 

“Hmm.” Draco regarded her carefully. “This very well may ruin your reputation here, you know.” 

She barked a laugh. “You mean more than spending countless hours locked in a classroom alone with you has?” She rolled her eyes. ”Besides. They’ll all see that you’re not your father eventually… And I’ll get to watch with an “I told you so” waiting. Plus it’s not as if anyone in the US will care, and I’ll be leaving directly after graduation anyway.” 

He blinked at her, and then huffed. “You really are irritating, you know that?” 

She smiled even wider. “I knew you’d see my side.” 


	12. Appearances

December, 1998

They exited the alcove, Rose’s hand clamped firmly around Draco’s bicep. Several passing Gryffindors stopped in their tracks, eyes wide. Draco pinned them with a cool stare, and Rose smiled up at him with a surprisingly convincing look of adoration. It was enough to make him smirk at their apparent confusion, and he pulled her away from the gawking students and into the Great Hall. 

They had scarcely taken their seats at the end of the Slytherin table when Pansy slid into the seat across from Draco. 

“You better be making an appearance at this party Friday night,” she drawled, ignoring the Ravenclaw beside him. “I’ll be absolutely livid if I have to endure another of these inter-house parties without you. And this one is… themed.” She shuddered. “Damn Hufflepuffs should not be allowed to party plan around the holidays.” 

“Pansy, I won’t—“

“Miss it!” Rose cut in, kicking Draco under the table. Draco glared as Pansy narrowed her eyes at her, as if realizing she was the for the first time. Rose smiled back brightly, her nails digging painfully into Draco’s knee beneath the table. 

“Pansy, you’ve met Rose Hollingsworth, haven’t you? And Rosie darling you remember Pansy Parkinson.” Pansy’s gaze snapped back to him, practically slicing a hole through him. 

“Of course I remember Pansy. You only have the best things to say about her.” Rose’s smile didn’t falter, and Pansy sniffed. 

“Rose, it’s nice to see you again. Will you be joining us at the party then?” Pansy was playing the part well, but Draco knew he’d get a tongue lashing later. 

“Of course she will.” Draco didn’t give her a chance to wriggle her way out of it, and Pansy nodded, as if she was satisfied. 

“Very good. I’ll let McMillan know you’ve RSVP’d with me, and we’ll see you there. I’d love to stay and chat, but I can’t let the first years get to comfortable. I’ll see you tonight, Draco.” She headed towards the head of the table at a determined clip, and Draco turned to Rose. 

“Was that really necessary?” 

“You’re trying to fix your reputation. The pet name was a nice touch, though, I’ll give you that. But you need to be seen besides moping in the back corner of a classroom. I was going to warn you about the party but she beat me to it.” She looked unperturbed at his glare as she filled his plate with a hearty helping of steak and kidney pie. “And I wasn’t going to leave you to the wolves. I need this to be seen as much as you do.” She filled her own plate with a much more reasonable portion and waved her fork at him. “Eat.” 

He took a bite, and she seemed satisfied. “What is the theme, anyway?” She stared him down until he took another bite. 

“Ugly sweaters.” 

Draco choked. “I am not in any—“ 

“Yours will match mine. And don’t make me hex you.”

He took a drink of cider and when he was certain he could speak again, he murmured, “You’ve been my girlfriend for all of ten minutes and you’re already acting like my mother. She might actually approve of you.” 

Rose just smiled, and flicked her hair over her shoulder before taking a bite herself. As her braid sailed past his nose, he realized that her ribbon today was a color he hadn’t seen yet; emerald green. Slytherin green. 

***

That night as he returned from their nightly study session, Pansy and Blaise were waiting for him in the common room. 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy what the hell are you doing?” Pansy was doing her best impression of both McGonagall and his mother, and Draco rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Rosie _darling_?! How long has this been going on? Why her? She’s a half blood! And a Ravenclaw! And an American!” She said the last as if she was admitting Rose was diseased. 

They’d talked it over in their classroom, determined to have their stories straight, and he recited back to her, sitting down in a large leather wingback chair, accepting the glass of elf-made wine from Blaise.

“Would you rather it be a muggle-born Gryffindor? I can see if Granger’s single, I can’t imagine she and the weasel have worked out this long.” Pansy’s look of disgust was enough. “Good. We’ve been together for a month now, and I thought you’d be thrilled I was showing some love for the other houses. Shouldn’t it help your little pet project?” 

“That is not what this is, Draco! Does your mother know?” 

“I see no reason for her to. It’s not as if we’ve discussed marriage so there is no point in dragging my mother into it.”

Pansy relaxed slightly at the realization that Draco wasn’t angling to marry the American. “I don’t think the Inter-house Diplomatic Corps cares who you’re snogging in dark corners. But I do!” 

Draco rolled his eyes, taking another sip of the wine. “You haven’t minded until now.”

“I think what Pansy meant,” Blaise cut in, “Is that appearances are everything. And this is very… Apparent.” 

“Don’t you think we’re painfully aware of that? Why do you think it took this long for us to make it visible?” Draco was irritated, but he’d made up his mind to keep them in the dark as well. The fewer that know about it, the better it would be for both him and Rose.

Pansy acquiesced, and the conversation turned to Blaise’s current infatuation with Daphne Greengrass. It felt nice to sit and talk with his friends without the threat of the Dark Lord hanging over them or their families, and Draco realized that for the first time, he was feeling as if he made the right choice by returning to Hogwarts.

***

The next two days were a blur of classes and staring eyes as it apparently became the talk of the castle that Draco Malfoy was dating a half-blood Ravenclaw. Theories ranged from Rose being under the Imperius curse to Draco slipping her a love potion. Rose found it unendingly entertaining, and Draco was determined to act as if nothing had changed, even as she hung off of him like a bowtruckle from a wiggentree whenever anyone else was around. She’d even somehow convinced the engraved dragon on their door plaque to wrap itself around the rose. It was revolting.

Friday evening found them in their classroom, facing off from each other, both sporting glares. 

“I swear to Merlin, I am not wearing an ugly sweater to this party!” 

“Yes you are! You need to be seen playing nicely with others!” 

“It should be enough that I haven’t hexed all the arseholes saying I’ve used the imperius curse on you!” 

“Draco I swear to god if you don’t put on the stupid sweater, I’m going to use it on you!”

Draco crossed his arms, a cool veneer sliding into place over his features. “That’s not funny.” 

She stared calmly back. “That is exactly my point.” She softened. “You don’t think it’s funny, or something to joke about. You’re not what they all say you are, but how can they know that if you don’t show them?” She held out the package again, and he reluctantly took it. “I’ll be back in an hour and we can go down together.”

“Where are you going?” Draco watched the surprise flicker across her face. 

“To get ready. Not all of us look like a dream after a day of classes.” 

“You look f—“ She was already out the door, leaving Draco with the brown paper package and a sneer. He threw the package down on the desk, bracing his hands on either side. He hated to admit she was right, but the American witch had a point. They all talked, and he never corrected them. 

But was that about looking like a dream after classes? She didn’t honestly mean she was attracted to him… Did she?

He sat down and pulled at the twine wrapped around the parcel. It came free easily, and he peeled back the paper packaging, dreading anything red. He still had his Slytherin pride, and he wouldn’t show up looking like a Gryffindor dammit. The soft cashmere that he unfolded wasn’t red though, thank Merlin. It was navy blue, with forest green trees woven around the torso. Silvery threads ran through the blue and green, making it look like it was snowing over the scene. It wasn’t obnoxious or garish, and he was grateful to Rose for picking something relatively understated. 

He felt a moment of guilt for throwing a fit over it, when she’d obviously taken his tastes into consideration when choosing. He locked the door with a flick of his wand and shrugged out of his school robes and jumper, pulling the silver and green tie at his throat free. He changed out of his white oxford to a fine grey button-down, tucking it neatly in to his black slacks. The soft sweater fit perfectly, and Draco snorted. Of course it did. Damn witch probably enlisted a house elf to find out his size. 

He pointed a spell at the window to turn it into a mirror, and begrudgingly admitted to himself the effect wasn’t unbecoming. The dark colors weren’t unlike those that he normally wore, and the silvery flashes looked quite nice with his shirt and white-blond hair. He understood now why she’d insisted on this particular shirt. 

He flicked his wand at the door to unlock it, and sat back down at the desk to work on more rune translations to wait for Rose to return. He didn’t get very far, as his mind kept wandering. He wondered who would be at the party and what would be done or said. At the very least he knew it would be well catered with the Hufflepuffs hosting, and if he knew anything about Pansy, there would be plenty of alcohol. 

He was tapping a staccato rhythm with his fingers against his leg when the door opened, but the girl that came in wasn’t Rose. Their long hair fell in soft curls almost to her hips, a tight skirt hugging halfway down her thighs, high heels lengthening her legs. Her sweater was patterned like his, but was oversized and slid off one shoulder, baring the black lacy strap of her bra. 

“You have…” he trailed off as she turned around. Her eyelashes looked impossibly long, making her eyes look positively doll-like, contrasting starkly against her red lips. 

“I have?” Those sinful lips turned up into a smirk, and Draco’s breath caught. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” His hands tightened even as his pants did, and he was bemoaning the lack of coverage that robes would have afforded. 

Rose gave a little twirl, her hair fanning out around her. “What? You don’t like it?” 

He was translating a poem into runes in his head and didn’t answer until she drew closer. He cleared his throat. “Are you trying to get me to hex someone? Because I know Blaise is going to be just one of about two dozen that are going to try to get his hands on you.” 

Her smirk melted into a sweet smile as she leaned easily against the desk beside him. 

“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Draco.”

He let his eyes drift down the length of her body, lingering on her legs. It wasn’t anything new, her skirts often rode up as she sprawled across her chair while studying, but now she was close enough to touch. 

“Well. I’m glad it fits, and it looks nice, if I do say so myself.” She was eyeing him in return, looking pleased with herself. 

“That _is_ the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Draco drawled, rolling his eyes and trying to hide how much he wanted to reach out for her. 

She beat him to it, trailing her fingers along his arm, and he froze when her fingertips brushed along the tender skin of the inside of his wrist. Even in the past weeks she’d kept her touches to his clothing. Her fingers were cool against his, and then they disappeared, brushing over the inside of his forearm. He hissed, jerking away from her. 

“Does it hurt?” She dropped her voice to the soft tone she used when they discussed unpleasant things. Her hand was still outstretched, and she didn’t seem offended by his action. 

“Not physically,” he ground out. “Not anymore.”

She looked sad, and dropped her hand to the desk. “Are you ready to go?” 

The surge of panic at her touching his Mark had killed whatever arousal he’d felt before, so he stood, and pointedly offered her his right arm. She seemed to understand that he wouldn’t say any more on the subject and that she’d been walking a very fine line. She took his proffered arm, and together they walked down to the basement.


	13. Parties

The Hufflepuff common room was nothing like the Slytherin common room, with its warm, earthy colors and garishly over the top Christmas decorations. Draco counted no less than 15 Christmas trees of varying sizes, all decorated with a different theme. He was having difficulty not rolling his eyes at the banner that read “Welcome Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins” in big flashing letters when Rose’s hand tightened on his arm. 

“Malfoy. I didn’t expect you to show.” Ernie McMillan was blocking their path, another Hufflepuff eighth year boy— Dominic Jones, he thought— hovered behind him. 

“I apologize, I gave our RSVP to Pansy. Did she not pass it on?” Draco asked carefully, not willing to start a fight yet. 

“Er… She did. We just didn’t think you’d come.” McMillan looked uncomfortable. 

“I wanted to come, and Draco hasn’t been able to tell me no yet,” came Rose’s bright reply. McMillan looked surprised, as if he was just noticing her. His eyes narrowed at her hands still wrapped firmly around Draco’s upper arm. “And Draco would never be so rude to not show after accepting an invitation. But if you’ll excuse us, I think I see Pansy and I’ve been meaning to thank her.” 

McMillan and Jones stepped aside, dumbfounded, and Rose led them towards the table that had been converted into a full bar. A

“What a dick,” she hissed under her breath. “I thought these were supposed to be the sweet little pushovers. Oh wait. That can’t be the case because they landed Hope, the little brat.” She looked up to see his thinly veiled amusement at her tirade, and she rolled her eyes. 

“I thought you saw Pansy.” He looked around for his housemate, but didn’t see her among the students pressing into the bar. 

“Nope! I just wanted a drink before I had to hex someone.”

Fellow Slytherin eighth year Theodore Nott was playing the part of bartender, and he waved at Draco, pouring a glass of scotch and a glass of elf made wine before continuing on with the other orders. Rose looked half impressed. 

“Being a Slytherin has its perks,” he murmured in her ear as they took their drinks and moved off to a less crowded portion of the room. 

“I think it’s being you, not just Slytherin.” The crowd was parting for them, and she didn’t miss the looks that they both were getting. 

“That too.” They reached an empty stretch between two Christmas trees, one decorated with live songbirds that were singing and chirping and the other with glittering snowflakes made of delicate crystal charmed to stay in constant motion, sparkling in the dim light. He murmured a silencing charm at the birds, pointing his wand discreetly behind Rose’s back before returning it to his sleeve and leaning casually against the wall. 

“So you got me in the sweater, into the party, and even kept me from hexing McMillan. What else did you need to check of tonight’s bucket list? He took a sip of scotch, the smooth burn bracing. 

Rose took several sips of her wine, surveying the crowd. “Well I did actually need to thank Pansy at some point, and maybe I’ll get you tipsy enough to get you to have some fun.”

Draco snorted. “Not likely. I can hold my liquor just fine. The real question here is can you?” His eyes lingered on the already half-empty glass in her hand. 

She flashed him a smile, moving closer, so their bodies were nearly touching. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, Draco.” His name on her lips sounded good enough on an average day, but when those lips were painted red and he could see more of the black lace than was just peeking over her shoulder, his knees went weak. He was grateful that the wall was keeping him steady, and took another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving her. 

“Gods, Draco. Don’t tell me you’re going to hide back here all night!” Blaise joined them against the wall, Daphne Greengrass on his arm. The blonde witch nodded at Rose, but ignored Draco. 

“We were looking for Pansy, actually. Have you seen her?” Draco deflected Blaise’s prodding, seemingly unperturbed by Daphne’s cool reception. 

“Not yet, but I’m sure she’ll show up. Come on, you’re dancing.” His fingers closed around Draco’s wrist, yanking in the direction of the space that has been cleared of furniture. Draco calmly pried his friends fingers free, and set his glass down. 

“Would you like to dance? Blaise will not rest until we do.” He motioned to the taller Slytherin already leading his date into the crowd of dancing students. 

“Aw sure why not.” Rose drained her glass, banishing it back to the bar and slipped past him, her shoulder dragging across his chest. Even through all the layers, it felt as if his skin was burning at the contact. ”Relax, Draco. It’s just me.” She said it into his chest near his shoulder so that only he could hear; he gritted his teeth, steeling himself with the knowledge that it was going to get worse before the night was over. Best get dancing out of the way so Blaise would lay off and he could get back to his scotch. 

He relaxed his shoulders by a fraction, and allowed her to lead the way, her hair swinging across her swaying hips. He found it oddly disconcerting not to have her signature ribbon there telling him what mood she was in, but he could only guess. 

Draco swore internally when the song changed to a much slower tempo as they reached an empty space near Blaise. Rose didn’t hesitate to loops both arms up around his neck, and he placed his hands firmly on her hips, against the soft curve of her waist. His fingers tangled in the ends of her hair, which he found to be silky smooth and not at all unpleasant. 

“We’re going to have some fun, just follow my lead.” Again it was said only loud enough for him to hear. Rose drew her thumb across the back of his neck, a shudder lancing down his spine. Her deliciously painted lips turned up, and she asked loud enough for surrounding couples to hear, “Oohh the big bad ice prince of Slytherin is ticklish!”

He rolled his eyes. “Ice prince? Very original.”

“I wish I could take credit but that clever bit goes to our hosts.” She swiped her thumb against their skin just under his collar again, eliciting the same response as before. 

“Knock it off, witch.” 

“Or what?”

Draco curved and tensed his fingers in response, smirking as she nearly hit the floor, squealing and pulling back out of his grasp. The effect around him was immediate, students pulling further away and drawing their wands, looking at the pair in varying combinations of suspicion and horror until it dawned on them that Rose was laughing. 

“That’s not fair!” She smacked his chest lightly, ignoring the bubble of bewildered expressions around them. Her wide smile seemed to be unfathomable to some of them; to make a point, she drew in closer, pressing her chest to his. Draco reciprocated the affection, wrapping his arms more tightly around her, and even let his smirk soften. 

Draco watched out of the corner of his eye as Terry Boot and his date both tucked their wands away, looking guilty. 

“You started it,” he said, feigning innocence, glancing down at her. 

“And that was a hell of a reaction. What do you think they’d do if I started screaming bloody murder?” She dropped her voice low again, but he thought he saw a seventh year Hufflepuff’s eyes widen and shuffle away. 

“Please don’t.” He glanced back down, finding her grinning up at him. 

“Spoilsport.”

“Do you want to end up in St Mungo’s? Because that’s how you end up in St Mungo’s, and I feel as if your father would have quite a lot to say about it after the fact…”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Fiiiiine,” she huffed, her smile belying her rather jovial mood. She begged him to go back to their spot after several more songs, and he was all too willing. Close contact with her was unsettling enough without fifty other students grinding around him. 

They stopped by the bar, where Theo got them fresh drinks and Rose got even more scandalized looks by pulling Draco down by his arm and whispering in his ear, her ruby lips nearly brushing against his temple. 

“You’d think we were about to go up in flames,” she was saying. “Now smile. It’ll really throw them through a loop.” He did as she said despite himself, and watched the jaw of the Hufflepuff girl nearest him practically hit the floor. She was right, though he’d never admit it to her; this was fun, even just to see what reaction they would get next. 

Halfway across the room, they were stopped as if an invisible wall had formed around them. Draco looked around angrily, trying to find who was impeding their progress, but didn’t see anyone. Rose elbowed his ribs and pointed at the air above their heads. 

“Bloody hell. It’s enchanted. It won’t let us go until we…” Draco trailed off, looking down at the witch on his arm. All of the sudden he was much less interested in anyone else’s reactions. 

Rose’s eyes dropped from the mistletoe down to his lips, her eyes widening as she processed what this meant. Draco leaned in carefully to the side so his lips brushed her ear. He felt the shiver that ran down her spine and heard the rush of her inhale. 

“Do you trust me?” A painfully long pause was followed by a slight nod. Draco took her wine glass and set it aside in mid air, the casual, wandless magic surprising her. Draco moved in closer, tilting his head and ghosting the tip of his nose down her cheekbone. He could feel her breath mingling with his as she leaned in, her fingers tightening around the side seams of his sweater. Draco cradled her head carefully with one hand, the other pressing firmly against her back. 

Draco’s heart pounded, blood rushing in his ears. He was waiting for her to jerk away, to stop him or to hesitate further, but her lips pressed against his. Her lips were soft even through the lipstick, and Draco could taste the iced berry elf wine. Her lips parted, and her tongue tentatively tested the edge of his lips. He let her explore until she grew bolder before parting his own. 

Her tongue was hesitant against his own, but she grew more confident, more demanding as he pulled her closer into him. 

“Oy, get a room!” Blaise’s taunt had Draco pulling back to glare, but Rose’s flushed cheeks and wide brown eyes caught his attention. She looked amazing like this; freshly kissed and dazed. 

He released her, handing her back her wine glass with a smirk. Her cheeks flushed further, but he was already pulling her across the room. They retreated to their length of wall between the trees sporting birds and crystalline snowflakes to find it now occupied by Pansy and Astoria. 

“Pansy. Tori.” They all nodded their greetings, and Rose smiled almost warmly at Pansy. 

“Thank you for getting his size for me. He doesn’t look too bad, does he?” Pansy sniggered at Draco’s outrage that she’d been the one to sell him out. 

“Anytime. I’m just amazed you got him here.” Pansy still looked smug. 

“It really wasn’t that hard,” Rose replied, smiling sweetly up at Draco. Astoria nearly choked on her wine, and was met with a look from Pansy that Draco couldn’t quite interpret. Before he could get an explanation, they were interrupted. 

“My own little flowers!” Justin Finch-Fletchley threw his arms around Pansy and Rose, his words slurring. Pansy sneered, but Rose flinched away. 

“Get off of me!” Rose tried to pull away, but the boy took a handful of her hair, yanking her back toward him. Rose fell to her knees with a cry. 

“Get off of us you pig!” Pansy elbowed the Hufflepuff in the ribs, twisting away from him. She reached for her wand, but there was already one at Justin’s throat. 

“Let go of her. Now.” Draco’s voice was low and steady, and the room was going silent around him. 

Justin laughed. “They’ll boot you right back to Azkaban if you do anything—“ Justin was cut off when Rose drove her elbow between his legs. He let go of her hair and crumpled, gasping. 

“HOW DARE YOU!” Rose pulled back and punched him square in the nose. A crunch and a spurt of blood told Draco she’d broken his nose, not unlike Granger had broken his back in their third year. 

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT HOW DARE YOU!” She pulled back, clearly intending to hit him again. Draco locked his arms around her, holding her back while Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Ernie Macmillan, and Dominic Jones hauled Justin to his feet and out of the common room. Theo had his arms around Pansy, who was looking shaken but otherwise unharmed. 

The words “death eater bitch” and “whore” could be heard as they dragged him down the hall. 

Rose fought Draco’s hold until she dissolved into tears, going limp in his arms. He turned, shielding her from the astonished stares coming from the students around the room. Most of the Slytherins in the room including Blaise, Pansy, Theo, Daphne, and Astoria formed a solid wall between the couple and the rest of the students even as whispers erupted. 

“Rose?” Draco knelt, cradling her against his chest. “Are you hurt?” 

“That bastard can go to hell but I’m fine,” she croaked. She reached up to brush away tears that had fallen, and winced. 

“For Salazar’s sake you broke your bloody hand! Rose what were you thinking?” Draco’s outburst got half of the Slytherins to turn around, and Astoria stepped out of line towards them. The other Slytherins shuffled to fill the space she left, turning back to the room. 

“The bastard got handsy and then started after you. You really think I was going to let him get away with that?” She glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the tears still streaming down her cheeks. 

“Can I heal your hand?” Astoria moved closer, waiting for them both to nod and Draco to shuffle out of the way. She knelt carefully next to them, and prodded Rose’s rapidly swelling hand with her wand. Rose gasped, her eyes filling with fresh tears as the bones cracked and knitted back together. 

“You’ve got balls, witch.” Astoria smiled at her when she was done. “Draco better be making this up to you for the rest of… Well, ever.” 

Draco snorted, and Astoria nudged him playfully. “But really. Go get her some ice and get her back to her dorm.”

“I can’t—“

“I’m up in the tower all the time, and they broke the wards between boys and girls dorms centuries ago. You’ll be fine.” 

Rose blinked at Astoria, wheels spinning. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. You’re always welcome in our lair too if you need. Password’s  _ Lake Legends.”  _

“Tori!” Draco protested weakly. 

“Draco you’re both safer with us. Look around.” Astoria gestured to the line of Slytherins standing shoulder to shoulder around them, and Draco blinked rapidly, as if he wasn’t trusting what he saw. 

“Thank you Astoria. Draco, can we go now?” Rose voice wavered, and he nodded. He helped her up, and held her steady when she swayed on her feet. Astoria stood up, looking alarmed. 

“Just stood up too fast. I’m okay.” Rose clung closer to Draco, and Astoria nodded. Draco wrapped a protective arm around Rose, and nodded to Blaise. The Slytherin wall parted, with several splitting off and moving forward with Draco and Rose as they moved towards the door. Wide eyes followed them, the whispers and murmurs dying out. 

“Rose…” a Ravenclaw seventh year stepped forward, pulling against a red headed sixth year Ravenclaw’s hold on her, eyes wide. “Viv! Let go! She needs help!”

“I’m fine. Draco’s taking me back to the common room and I’m going to bed.” 

“But—“ the girl reached out, and Rose shied away, pressing herself tighter into Draco’s side. The other girl’s eyes widened even further, and she dropped her hand. “Okay. We’ll be up in a bit.” 

“Thanks Betty.” Rose tugged on Draco’s sweater, and after two steps the girl spoke up again. 

“Uh… Malfoy?” Draco turned slowly, incredulous that this girl was addressing him. 

“Miss Li?” The Ravenclaw girl went scarlet, faltering. 

“Thank you for standing up to him.” She flushed scarlet and retreated back to her knot of Ravenclaws. 

“This is why I don’t come to parties,” the redhead that had tried to hold her back was whispering to a burly seventh year that Draco recognized as one of their Quidditch beaters. Fairview, he thought his name was. He ignored them, pushing Rose through the gawking people. 

“All of you sod off, leave them alone.” Since killing the Dark Lord’s snake, Longbottom’s confidence had skyrocketed, and girls were suddenly very interested in the man. “I think this party is about over. Everybody clear out.” Draco had to admit, the Gryffindor wasn’t the pushover he’d been before; he commanded the room now. 

Halfway down the corridor to the staircase, Longbottom caught up with them. 

“Are you guys okay?” He asked in a low voice, glaring at a knot of Gryffindors staring at them. 

“We’re fine, Longbottom.” Draco was determined to ignore him, but he persisted. 

“Look, we all saw what happened. We won’t let him turn it around on you. Not to mention Hermione’s Head Girl. She’s furious, she’s going to give him detention and report him.” Neville looked down at Rose. 

“Sorry. I’m Neville, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.“ Rose stopped in her tracks, glaring at the man. 

“And I’m the ex-Death Eater’s American girlfriend. Are you done fishing so I can go back to my dorm now?” His eyebrows shot up in shock, and Draco cleared his throat. 

“Longbottom testified in my favor. He’s not a bad bloke,” Draco admitted. Rose flushed. 

“Sorry. That idiot pissed me off, and I’m done with the stares for tonight. I just want to go to bed.” 

“No worries. We saw. And I really am sorry. Me and Hermione are on your side, if you need anything.” Neville shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“You and Granger have done more than enough. But thank you.” Draco tugged on Rose’s arm. “Come on.” Neville stayed put this time, and Rose sighed in relief; this night had been far more than either of them bargained for. 


	14. Shifting

They made it to the Ravenclaw tower without any more problems, and luckily caught a prefect coming out, so they slipped through the door and into the common room. In stark contrast to the Hufflepuff common room, the broad, high-ceilinged room was quiet, the few students still in it engrossed in their own books or projects. The airy space was lined with bookshelves, elegant chairs and sophisticated sofas scattered around the room. 

She headed straight for a graceful archway that led to a spiral staircase. On the second landing, she pushed opened the door and strode in. The dorm was bigger than his was in the Slytherin dungeons, but also… messier. Piles of robes and clothes were strewn about the room, books lay open and someone’s oil paints were scattered across the floor. 

Rose slid onto the bed nearest the door, the immediate space around it significantly tidier than the rest of the chaotic room. Draco leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed. 

“Are you okay?” She looked up at him, arms wrapped around herself. 

“You’re the one that got groped and broke your hand and you’re asking how  _ I  _ am?” He scoffed. “Did you hit your head while I wasn’t looking too?” She just glared at him, and then wilted. 

“I’m sorry I made you go.” Her voice was small, and she looked as if she was going to cry again. 

“Don’t be sorry. It was actually kinda fun until the Huffle-fuck ruined it.” She laughed, and tears spilled down her face. Draco slid onto the bed next to her, and slung his arm around her, trying not to think too far into it. She didn’t seem to mind as she leaned into him, but the dam had broken and she sobbed into his chest. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Really. Don’t cry.” He felt awkward, but he couldn’t leave her now, so he just held her and let her cry. He looked around the room again, trying to find something to focus on that wasn’t the sweet rose smell of her hair, and a silver glint drew his eyes to her desk. In the center, a silver rose was propped up in an empty ink pot. When he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the door was flung open and two of her fellow seventh years charged in. 

They both stopped in their tracks at the sight of Rose crying in his arms and stared, slack-jawed. Alice MacNamara and Caroline Benson hadn’t ever run in the same circles as Draco, and he found it nothing short of a miracle that he knew their names at all. Betty Li, plus another girl that he thought was somehow related to the Fortescues, and the redhead that had been holding her back in the Hufflepuff’s common room were the next ones through the door, also stopping dead in their tracks, blocking the doorway. 

Draco offhandedly wondered if they’d ever find his body if he made this lot angry. He suspected not, though he didn’t think they’d find it if any  _ one _ of them was angry enough, let alone all six. So he did the sensible thing and kept his mouth shut. 

“Livvy!” The Ravenclaw beater from the party was the last one through the door. The redhead turned toward him slightly, but kept her eyes on Draco. “Er…” The man was tall enough to see over the heads of all the girls, and he was obviously just as lost as Draco was. Thankfully, he recovered much more quickly. “Leave them to it then, everybody out.” He pulled on the redhead and the other one he didn’t know the name of, and the other three shuffled out, the door shutting with a thud behind them. 

“Well that was just lovely,” Rose mumbled, pulling away and wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I should get Axios a present for getting them all out of here, though.” 

“The beater?” She nodded, and rolled her eyes when his expression darkened. 

“He’s a nice guy. He’s so head over heels for Vivienne, it’s almost pathetic. I still haven’t figured out why he calls her Livvy, though…” She shook her head. “I said I wasn’t going to care about any of it and here I am, acting like I care.” She glared at the end of the bed. 

“Go to bed and get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning. We’ve only got one more week of term, and then you can go home and not think about it all for a couple weeks. Okay?” Draco rubbed her shoulder, and she nodded. 

“Thanks. For coming up here. You didn’t have to do that.” She wiped her eyes again. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Draco extracted himself and slipped out through the door, resisting the urge to look back at the silver rose on her desk. He was painfully aware of all the eyes that followed him across the unfamiliar common room. When he reached the corridor, he almost ran headlong into the beater and the redhead; Axios and Vivienne, Rose had called them. He muttered an apology, but only got two steps down the hall before the girl called after him. 

“Malfoy?” He almost kept walking, but something in her voice made him turn back. 

“Is she okay?” The girl was honestly worried about Rose. 

Draco nodded tiredly. “She just needs some rest. She’ll be fine tomorrow if everyone leaves her alone.” 

He turned away, and heard the beater say in a low voice, “I told you, love. He’s not so bad.” 

He didn’t know what he’d done to shift the perception, but he wasn’t going to argue now. He hurried down the corridor, desperate to be back in familiar, if not semi-friendly territory. 

The Slytherin common room was quiet and subdued when he entered, most of the students already in bed. He was intending to go straight to bed himself, but Astoria waved him over. Pansy, Blaise, Daphne and Theo rounded out the group, and he took the only empty seat left between Astoria and Pansy. 

The group was quiet, so he didn’t feel the need to say anything either, until Pansy cleared her throat. 

“Well that was—“

“A complete bloody disaster,” Draco fumed. 

“Actually I was going to say quite the success.” Pansy corrected him calmly. She’d evidently recovered from the ordeal much more quickly than he or Rose had. He glared at her, but she’d always been immune to his moods, and went on. “You should hear was people are saying. You defending us, well specifically  _ her _ , is making everyone rethink their opinions.”

The Ravenclaw beater’s words echoed back to him, and he sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. 

“Somehow I don’t believe that drawing my wand on that prick is going to do me as many favors as you think. A couple of the Ravenclaws, maybe. The others still think I’m going to murder them in their sleep” 

“Actually…” Astoria leaned forward. “The Ravenclaws have been pretty accepting since it came out you and Rose were dating. Even before that, a few of them defended you. Mostly the ones from the Battle…” She shrugged. “And I’ve heard that Longbottom has torn into anyone that has said anything about you since start of term. Granger’s got a reputation for giving detention to anyone who so much as mentions your family.” 

He blinked at her. How did she know this? More importantly, how was he unaware of their crusades on his behalf?

“And the Hufflepuffs have been sick of Finch-Fletchley’s shit for for some time,” Theo added. “They all think it’s bloody brilliant she broke his nose.” 

Draco sat back in his chair, trying to digest the information. If they were all correct, had he been misreading the entire school? The group began to dissolve, starting with Blaise and Daphne, followed quickly by Theo and Pansy, who Draco was now fairly certain were having some sort of less-than-covert affair. 

Only Astoria remained, but Draco had realized weeks ago that he genuinely liked the youngest Greengrass, and appreciated her easy company. She was one of the few Slytherins that spent time in the other house’s common rooms, most of it with the Ravenclaws it seemed. Which led him to his next question. “Do you know the Ravenclaw kid, Fairview?” 

She looked up from the discarded copy of the Daily Prophet she’d been glancing through. “Axios Fairview? Yeah. Why?”

“What’s his deal?” He watched as she fidgeted with the corner of one page, making the moving words stutter over the crease. 

“He’s a seventh year. I hear he’s sitting for his NEWTS instead of retaking a year though… Beater, pureblood, all around nice guy. Most of the girls in my year have tried to flirt with him at one time or another, but his girlfriend died in the Battle. I guess he saw it all happen and killed Dolohov for it. He’s been a lot more quiet this year.” 

Draco mulled that one over. It would stand to reason that he should hate Draco for his part in the war, and yet he was telling the girl he wasn’t so bad. 

“Why?” Astoria was watching him closely. 

“He was telling the little redhead that I was alright. Just didn’t know why.” Astoria nodded, comprehension dawning. 

“Vivienne Beaulieu. She’s a sixth year... She’s a muggleborn.” 

“Ah.” Her blatant mistrust made even more sense now. 

“She’s interning with Pomfrey too. She’s sweet, really quiet…” Astoria shrugged. 

“How do you know everyone?” Draco was honestly curious, and Astoria laughed. 

“Well Viv’s easy, because we’re in the Hospital wing together all the time, and Axios hangs around with her and Hazel Harlow a lot. Plus I’m up there with Alice and Caroline a couple times a week.” Something in the back of Draco’s mind made him wonder if Astoria was why he knew the girls’ names. “Other than that, I think it’s because I don’t lock myself in an abandoned classroom instead of interacting with people, like a couple of people I know.” 

Draco ignored the jab, and traced the stitching on the leather arm of his chair with one long finger. If what they said was true, he might have his work cut out for him over the next six months, and not just to pass his NEWTs. 

Astoria went to bed shortly afterwards, but Draco lingered in the common room. He’d barely spent any time there since coming back, and he was overcome with a nostalgic melancholy, thinking over the last eight years. 

When he finally went to bed, he decided it was time to embrace the shifting opinions, and make it work in his favor. 


	15. Chess

Rose joined Draco at the Slytherin table for breakfast the next morning, her hair back in her signature braid and her eyes bloodshot. Draco just passed her a cup of coffee and went back to the morning’s edition of the  _ Daily Prophet _ . They were joined by Astoria and Alice MacNamara, the latter taking her seat next to Draco, the former across the table beside Rose. 

Draco, conscientious of what Alice probably thought of him, was careful to be polite, but shot a look at Astoria, who shrugged and smiled sweetly back. Rose didn’t say much, and ate even less. 

“Do you guys want to come play chess with us?” Alice looked between Rose and Draco. 

“Sure.” Draco nudged Rose’s foot under the table as he answered. 

“Your place or ours?” Astoria was entirely too pleased that he’d agreed, and was looking at Rose for an answer. 

“Let’s say ours,” she said carefully, nudging Draco’s foot in return. 

They set off towards Ravenclaw tower, Alice and Astoria chattering happily about their Christmas plans, Draco and Rose trailing after them. 

“What are you doing,” Rose hissed at him under her breath as they climbed the third staircase. 

“Fixing things,” he hissed back, equally terse. She huffed, but evidently decided to let it play out. They reached the tower, only to join a knot of students returning from breakfast but had been stalled by the eagle-shaped knocker. They were arguing amongst themselves, occasionally shouting out answers, but the knocker remained silent. 

“What was the riddle?” Alice and Rose stepped forward a bit to hear the eagle open its mouth. 

“I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space.  I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?” 

The two girls shared a glance, obviously as baffled as the rest of the students. 

“And they didn’t want to hide out in the dungeons because this is so much better,” Astoria giggled to Draco. They listened to the others debate how something could be the beginning of the end but also the end of time for several minutes before Draco rolled his eyes. 

“You lot overthink everything.” Louder he added, “it’s the letter ‘E’.”

A dozen set of eyes bore into him while the door swung open, the eagle chortling. Astoria was in stitches beside him, the Ravenclaws still speechless. Rose was the first to break the silence, an approving smirk on her face. 

“At least it wasn’t a Hufflepuff.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the door, Alice and Astoria on their heels. Astoria was still catching her breath when they claimed a corner with a chessboard. 

Draco and Astoria sat side by side on a sofa upholstered with sky blue silk, Rose on the floor leaning against Draco’s legs facing Alice, who lay on her stomach hanging off the end of a chaise lounge chair. 

“I play winner,” Astoria said, glancing at Draco.

“What, you don’t want to face me without winning first?” Draco smirked at the girl. 

“Well we don’t have another board,” she rolled her eyes. Alice perked up, grinning. 

“Hey Axios! Can we use your chess board?” Her shout made several of the students look around, including the dark haired boy. 

He flicked his wand, and a moment later a heavy, ornate chess board landed in his hands. He sauntered over with it, his nearly black eyes glittering. 

“Who’s playing?” Rose indicated the two Slytherins over her shoulder, and he handed the board over to Draco, sitting in the closest armchair. “I play winner. Are you as good as your father was?” 

Draco arched a pale eyebrow, and the other boy laughed. “It’s been twenty seven years and my dad still moans about being bested by Lucius Malfoy their seventh year.” 

“I’ve never beat him,” Draco admitted as Astoria prodded the pieces into place. 

“You also wipe the floor with our entire house,” Astoria huffed. 

“You’re all bloody awful,” he shot back. “Maybe I’ll have some decent competition up here. I haven’t had a good game since Severus—“ he stopped, swallowing hard. 

Astoria saved him. “Your move.” He prodded a pawn forward, and the Ravenclaw boy sat back. A few of the others wandered past while they played, and even the sixth year girl, Vivienne, perched on the arm of Fairview’s chair to watch for a few minutes before drifting off with the Harlow girl. 

Draco beat Astoria fairly quickly, but Alice and Rose were still dancing around the board. Draco reset the board and Fairview made his move. Rose ended up beating Alice in a brilliant feint, and Astoria challenged Rose to another game. 

Fairview proved to be a much better opponent than Astoria, and a small crowd gathered as they played. Vivienne returned at some point, and snickered when Draco took one of his knights. 

“Livvy,” he whined. “You’re supposed to be on my side!” 

“And you need to be knocked down a peg or two,” she retorted, her attempts to keep a straight face failing spectacularly, Draco thought. She blushed furiously when she caught him looking though, and he flicked his eyes back to the board. 

Astoria and Rose abandoned their game, watching the two men in silent battle over the board. Draco thought Fairview had him twice, the second ending in the loss of his Queen, but he found a hole in his defensive strategy and trapped him. 

“Check mate.” Draco leveled a stare at the other boy as his king and queen bowed their defeat. Axios extended his hand over the board, a smirk on his face. Draco shook it firmly, nodding at him. 

“Good game. Anytime you want to play again let me know.” The Ravenclaw sounded sincere, and Draco let a smile slip through. 

“Likewise, Fairview. Maybe by the end of the year you can tell your father you beat a Malfoy.” 

He laughed, sitting back in his chair. “That’ll be the day. Dad would lose his mind.” Draco turned his attention to Astoria and Rose, who had resumed their game. He hadn’t expected this day to play out like this, but he wasn’t upset by it. Astoria bested Rose, and went after Alice for another game so they traded places. Rose happily curled up on the sofa under Draco’s arm. 

“You’ve won over the entire house in the course of a single morning. Show off.” It was a quiet murmur meant only for him, and he chuckled. 

“If that’s all it took, I should have brought out a chess board sooner.” 

“The riddle probably got you more points, but the chess didn’t hurt. Not to mention it was with Fairview. Everyone likes him, and actually listens to him.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Alice threw a pillow at them, obviously feeling more at ease with Draco.

“Probably planning something nefarious,” Astoria snickered. 

“Well we figured we’d start with something simple, like world domination,” Draco drawled, rolling his eyes. Rose giggled beside him, and Alice huffed. 

“You two are almost as bad as Viv and Axios.”

“What about me?” Fairview’s dark curls popped up over the back of a nearby sofa, a battered Muggle paperback in his hand. 

“You’re a bloody romantic, that’s what,” Astoria told him, her eyes never leaving the board. Fairview made a face, and dropped back out of sight. 

Draco snorted. Fairview’s was at least real. 

The thought surprised him. He’d told himself a million times that he wasn’t going to get involved, that he wasn’t going to sleep with her or fall for her. She was a means to an end, just as he was for her.

But with her tucked against him, the feeling that he needed to protect her was stronger than ever, and he was content to stay there. Perhaps Ravenclaw Tower wasn’t so bad after all. 


	16. Whispers

In the following days, Draco and Rose spent more time in Ravenclaw Tower and the Slytherin dungeons than in their classroom. Whispers still followed, but Draco paid closer attention to what was being said by whom, and was surprised to find that Rose and Astoria had been mostly correct. As a general rule, the Ravenclaws respected him, the Gryffindors ignored him, and the Hufflepuffs walked a fine line between fear and appreciation. The Slytherins were more tight-lipped when he was present, and while they seemed to vary widely, they also didn’t make a scene one way or another. 

The last evening before the term ended, he and Rose had dinner at the Ravenclaw table and retired to their classroom to work on their translations, Rose having made a breakthrough during their work earlier in the day. 

She stood in front of the blackboard, her hands on her hips and a cross look on her face as she read the words she’d written. 

“ _The healer and the protector_

_ Must exchange a vow  _

_ Finding the truth  _

_ A dozen and one years come.” _

Draco flipped through  _ Spellman’s Syllabary _ behind her, trying to find a better translation for one of the runes, but was coming up blank. 

“I think protector is the closest we’re going to get.” He flipped a few more pages, but came up blank. 

“Ugh. Fine. What about the other bit?” She turned away from the board, listening carefully as Draco parroted back, 

“ _Dark turned light will fade_

_Her blood run cold_

_The curse of ancients_

_Seeking recompense_

_Life for death_

_Death for life...”_

“Have you ever heard of this ‘curse of ancients’?” Rose tapped her wand against her leg agitatedly, her hair coming loose from its braid and it’s electric blue ribbon. 

“There are about a million ‘ancient curses’ used in old pureblood families, but I can’t think of a single one that applies in this context.” Draco rubbed his temples and idly wondered if Slughorn would let him brew a batch of headache relief potion for personal use.

The door swung open, and Astoria ambled in. She dropped her bag on an empty desk and pushed some of Draco’s books out of the way to sit on the desktop. He rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. She’d been joining them more and more lately, when she wasn’t in the hospital wing or quidditch practice.

“You’re one of the sacred whatevers, aren’t you?” Rose turned back to the board, adding the latest piece to it. 

Astoria glanced at Draco, confused at the question. 

“Yes she’s a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.” Draco simultaneously answered both questions, and Astoria nodded. 

“Know any ancient curses?” Rose was still writing on the board, and Draco buried his face in his hands. 

“Uhh…”

“Don’t answer that,” Draco mumbled. 

“It was a perfectly logical line of thought,” Rose shot over her shoulder. “If you don’t know it, maybe one of the other families does.” She finished copying it and threw the chalk down. 

“Hold on, why are you looking for curses?” Astoria’s eyebrows drew together, looking between the two. 

“We’re not. We’re translating what the Ministry believes to be an old prophecy from one of the old family vaults.” Draco waved at the board and several sheets of parchment scattered around the classroom. “This part talks about some ‘curse of the ancients’ and Rose thinks one of us will know what it means.” 

Astoria’s mouth formed an “oh” and she read over what some of what they had on the board. 

“Aren’t prophecies supposed to rhyme?” She hopped off the desk to look more closely at the board. 

“Some of them do, but most don’t. Especially ones like these that were probably foretold in old English and then written in runes just to be retranslated into new English.” Rose was tapping her wand against her thigh as she spoke, pink sparks bursting from the tip with every impact. She didn’t seem to notice as she paced in a circle around the desk. 

“Rose, sit down before I put a body-bind on you,” Draco grit out. “You’re driving me mad.” Astoria glanced back at him, amusement dancing in her blue eyes. Rose dropped into her armchair, crossing her legs and shaking her foot instead. 

“What’s this about a flower?” Astoria tapped one of the sheets from their earliest translations. 

Draco sighed again. “We don’t know, and neither of us are on good enough terms with Sprout to find out if she knows.”

“What about another student?” Astoria straightened, moving on to the next sheet. 

“Er… I didn’t think any of the students would help.” Draco glanced at Rose, who shrugged. 

“What about Neville? He’s amazing at Herbology.”

“Longbottom? Seriously?” Draco couldn’t believe she was even suggesting it. 

“He’d help, and he’s one of the Twenty-Eight. It can’t hurt to ask.” She held up another piece of parchment from early on. “Are these in order?”

“Not really. We started with whatever caught our eye, and have kinda been jumping around since.” Rose spring from her chair, obviously in no mood to stay put. “Why?” 

“Because the symbolism of this one matches pieces from that one,” she pointed at the blackboard, “and that one.” She pointed back to the first sheet. “Daughter of dark, dark turned light… it’s kind of a recurring theme here.” 

“We noticed. But we can’t agree on whether it’s literal or figurative.” Draco threw his quill down and sat back in his chair. 

“Or if it’s a love story or a curse,” Rose pouted. 

“Or what a bloody dragon has to do with it,” Draco said sulkily. 

Astoria put the sheet down and looked between them. “You both need a break.”

“The holidays start tomorrow, or have you forgotten?” Draco clenched his hand, the bite of his signet ring just irritating him further. 

“No, I mean now.” Astoria glared at Draco. “You are dangerously close to hexing her,” she pointed at Rose. “And you can’t sit still, not to mention you’ve been shooting sparks since I got here.” Rose looked down guiltily at the wand in her hand. 

“I’m just saying you guys are ALWAYS together and you could use some breathing room that you’re not unconscious for. A couple hours won’t kill you. In fact it might keep you from killing each other.” 

Rose finally stilled, the last of the pink sparks fading. She blinked at Astoria for a moment before her eyes filled with tears, and she tore from the room, stopping only to grab her bag. 

Draco jumped to his feet, intent on following her, but Astoria hit him with a jelly-legs jinx that had him back in his chair before the door finished closing. 

“What the hell?” Draco yelped, his temper flaring. “What did you do that for?” Astoria crossed her arms, leveling a cool stare at him.

“What’s really going on? She’s been so on edge the last couple days I’ve just been waiting for her to end up in Poppy’s office begging for a Calming Draught.” Draco slumped down in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair defeatedly. 

“She’s worried about going home. Her family’s been giving her a hard time since she got here, and now she has to go home and face them alone.”

“And you?” Astoria lowered herself slowly into one of the student desks across from Draco.

“Much of the same. Father hasn’t spoken a single word to me since the trials…” He clenched his fist automatically, his signet ring feeling more and more like a noose. “But Mother keeps hinting at some big changes in her letters, and somehow I don’t think it’s just the upholstery in the dining room.” 

Astoria was quiet, spinning her wand between her fingers as she thought. She sighed, standing and collecting her bag. 

“I’m going to go talk to her. You really should get out of this room though. Why don’t I meet you in the library in a bit?” Draco didn’t particularly care to stay in the classroom alone, so he agreed. 

Astoria left in a swish of her dark pony tail, and Draco turned the opposite direction, hoping the library would be empty this close to the holidays.

The library wasn’t full, but it wasn’t empty either, and Draco laid claim to a quiet alcove between the herbology and MediMagic sections, spreading out his translations once more. An hour later, he was frustrated and scowling at the shelf in front of him when the man at the shelf caught his eye. He groaned internally, cursing Astoria for being right, but swallowed his pride. 

“Hey, Longbottom.” The Gryffindor looked up, the surprise clear on his features. “Can I ask you a question?” He blinked, but approached the table. 

“What’s up?” 

“I’ve got a herbology question, and you’re the one to ask.” His eyebrows came together, obviously confused at Draco’s veiled praise. 

“I suppose I’m alright.” Draco almost snorted at his modesty, but suppressed it for propriety's sake. “How can I help?” Draco gestured at the seat across from him, and Neville sat, looking intrigued. 

He ignored the whispers erupting from a group of Hufflepuffs, diving in to explain his internship with Professor Sinistra, and the vague origins of the Runes before showing him the line that read, “ _ A flower blooming in a foreign land, Returns home to thrive in ash and embers.” _

“Well… I can tell you a few things.” Neville scratched at his chin distractedly. “First of all, you can knock my name and the Abbotts off the list of who it might belong to. Timothy Abbott and I went through our vaults together this summer and there wasn’t anything like that. A few old family legends, but they were all in English, and we knew them already.”

Draco nodded. He’d suspected as much; the Longbottoms and Abbotts had stayed pretty clear of any Dark Arts for the last several centuries. It wouldn’t make sense for them to have prophecies of light and darkness or curses hanging around. 

“As for the flower… the only things I can think of that would thrive in ash and embers would be phoenix ferns or dragon’s breath, but the phoenixes don't flower, and dragon’s breath are generally bunches of tiny flowers, not one singular bloom…” he trailed off, obviously thinking hard. 

“But if it’s a foreign plant, there may be some I don’t know about. I can look into it and get back to you.” He met Draco’s eyes, and Draco was startled to see he appeared to be genuine. 

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks, Longbottom.” The taller man grinned. 

“It’s Neville. And anytime, Malfoy.”

“Draco, then.” He extended his hand, and Neville shook it firmly, but didn’t leave. 

“Is your girlfriend alright after the other night? Hermione’s been on the warpath about it, but neither of us wanted to insert ourselves and make it worse for either of you.”

Draco supposed he should have expected as much from the Golden Gryffindors, but he just shook his head. 

“She’s a bit shaken up, but she’s coping. As long as we’re with my house or hers, she’s fine.” Neville nodded sympathetically. 

“She feels bad for what she said to you, though.” Neville dismissed it with a wave of his hand. 

“Honestly I’d have said a lot worse, tell her no hard feelings.” Draco couldn’t really imagine the man snapping at anyone, but he nodded. 

“Anyway. I’ll look into some plants and see what I can find. See you around.” Neville went back to the shelf Draco had pulled him from, and Draco sat back, mulling over their conversation. He’d always thought Longbottom to be, in Severus’ words, a dunderhead. But he seemed to be genuinely kind and thoughtful, not to mention he’d known two plants Draco had never even heard of off the top of his head. There was a strong possibility he’d seriously underestimated the Gryffindor… 

But he was still seriously considering hexing the Hufflepuffs that were still whispering. 


	17. Gifts

Astoria found him a while later, looking guilty. 

“She wouldn’t talk to me.” Draco heaved a sigh. 

“Fantastic.” He gathered his papers, stacking them neatly, despite his hurry. 

“Wait where are you going?” Astoria looked alarmed. 

“I’m going to get her birthday and Christmas gifts, and I’m going to go make sure she doesn’t spend what may be her last night at Hogwarts crying.” 

“You don’t mean you think she wouldn’t…” Astoria was on his heels as he left the library. 

“She comes of age in two days and she hates it here. So yes, Astoria, I think there is a very good chance she won’t return.” Draco fumed, storming past Madam Pince’s desk and into the corridor. 

“What can I do?” Astoria looked as if she was going to be ill. “This is my fault. What can I do to help?” 

“Start by getting all of her roommates out, and keep them out. She won’t talk to me if that lot is there giggling.” 

“Done.” She turned away halfway down the hallway, taking a shortcut to one of the back staircases that ended closer to the tower than the grand staircases did. 

Draco grabbed the two small boxes from his dorm, and at the last moment looked around the common room for Pansy. He didn’t see her, but saw one of the girls that had joined his and Astoria’s quidditch games coming from the girls’ dormitories. 

“Hey Becker!” The blonde peered up at him through her fringe. “Have you seen Parkinson?” 

“Leave Marta alone, Draco. I’m right here.” Pansy was smoothing her hair down, Theo trailing behind her with his shirt half untucked and a dazed look on his face. Lovely.

“I need a decent bottle of wine. Maybe two. And glasses.” 

“How many glasses?” She was already strolling past him into the girl’s dorms. “Red or white?”

“Just two.” He tried to remember what she’d been drinking at the party. “White. She likes it sweet.” 

Thirty seconds later she was returning, two crystal wine glasses and two bottles of elf-made wine in her hand. He took the bottles, nodding approvingly at the labels. 

“Pansy, I owe you.”

“Consider it a thank you for giving me a reason not to allow the Hufflepuffs to plan any more parties.” She shooed him with a flick of her wrist. He tucked the bottles and glasses in his bag with a cushioning charm, and was out the door before Theo had tucked in his shirttails. 

Ravenclaw tower was more full than usual, but Draco caught sight of Astoria in the corner with what looked like all of Rose’s roommates. She gave him a nod, and Draco took a deep breath before knocking on the door. 

“I swear to Merlin, why can’t you all just--” The door swung open, and she stopped. Her eyes were red and puffy again, but she didn’t look unhappy to see him. “Draco?” 

“Rose.” He waited for her to decide if she was going to let him in or shut the door in his face, and had to force down a sigh of relief when she stepped aside. 

“What do you want?” She shut the door, crossing her arms across her chest. He pulled out the glasses and one of the bottles. 

“To apologise, drink, and not think about tomorrow.” 

“What about my--”   


“Astoria is on roommate duty to apologise herself.” Rose snorted, but took a glass, and crawled into the middle of her bed, sitting with her legs crossed. 

“I’ll take it.” Draco sat at the foot of the bed, his back against the bedpost, and opened the bottle with a tap of his wand. He poured her glass first, then his own and set the bottle aside. 

“I never thought I’d see the day Draco Malfoy came to apologise,” she eyed him over her glass. He rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his wine. He really had to give it to Pansy, she knew how to choose a good bottle. 

“Don’t expect it to become a habit, witch.” She smiled at that. 

They were working on their second glasses when Rose asked, “Did you really just come up here to hang out and drink?” 

“We have to keep up appearances,” he said lightly. “But I also wanted to make sure you got these before you left.” He tossed her the two small boxes, smirking at the surprised look on her face. “Happy Birthday, and Christmas, and New Year… and whatever else we want to celebrate.” 

“You didn’t have to--”

“Shut up and open them.” She shot him a withering look, but tucked her nearly empty wine glass between her crossed legs and picked up the larger of the two. She tore off the shiny green paper, and her mouth twisted up in an amused smile at the crystal perfume bottle in the shape of a rose. 

“You know how irritating it is that you can like rose everything, unironically?” He rolled his eyes dramatically. She giggled, unstopping it to smell the perfume inside. Rose with notes of bergamot, the perfume was specially made in Paris by his mother’s perfumer. Not that she needed to know that. 

“It smells amazing. Thank you.” He nodded once, taking a long sip of wine to hide how pleased he was that she liked it. She picked up the second box, a smaller one that fit in the palm of her hand. Sliding the silver ribbon from the box, she glanced up at him briefly. 

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?” Draco asked lightly, taking another sip of wine. 

“Acting all indifferent because you’re excited about something.” She smirked at his annoyance, taking a deep drink from her glass.

“And you’re doing that thing where you’re being really irritating.” She grinned at that, lifting the lid on the box. She lost her grin, her jaw dropping at the necklace inside. A large cushion-cut yellow diamond surrounded by a halo of clear diamonds hung from a delicate chain. 

“You can’t be serious.” She looked up from the box, blinking rapidly. 

“I assure you, I am.” Draco calmly set his glass aside. “Do you want to try it on?” 

“Is that a diamond?” It came out a squeak, and he was fairly certain her eyes couldn’t physically get any bigger. 

“I think so. I was more interested in the color though…” He took the box and motioned for her to turn around. 

“You’re insane. You can’t give me a diamond that big! You shouldn’t be giving me a diamond at all!” 

“I don’t see why not. Besides, there’s more than one.” He took the box and lifted it out, motioning again for her to turn around. “One way or another, you’re putting it on. Don’t make me hex you.” 

She huffed, but turned around, lifting her braid out of the way. He secured the clasp, and sat back, a satisfied smirk firmly on his face. She turned back towards him, reaching up to the stone resting below the hollow of her throat. 

He summoned the hand mirror from her desk, and handed it over to her. Her eyes were still impossibly big, and she shook her head. 

“Draco it’s--”

“Perfect. More wine?” He topped off his glass, and leaned over fill hers, but she leaned forward and kissed him. 

Draco was fairly certain that kissing her back was an exceptionally bad idea, but he didn’t let that stop him. He reached up without breaking the kiss to pull her anxiety-fueled electric blue ribbon free from the end of her braid, tugging on the strands gently to leave her hair hanging in loose waves down her back. She pushed her hands through his hair, and he moaned into her mouth. 

She melted into him, but before he’d had anywhere near enough, the door to the dorm room slammed open. Rose jumped back, her face flushed. 

“Roooose! Dracooo!” Alice and Caroline sang into the room. “Put your clothes on, we’re coming in!” 

“We’re decent,” Draco growled. “What do you want?” The two girls came in smirking. 

“We needed to finish wrapping our gifts, but don’t mind us!” Draco dropped his face into his hand, but Rose was already pulling the hangings down around them, throwing up silencing charms.

“I”m going to kill Astoria,” he murmured. Rose dissolved into giggles, and he shuffled around so he was sitting next to her against her headboard, and polished off the wine in his glass. Rose dumped the rest of the bottle into her own glass, and turned to face him. 

“We made it twice as long as I thought we would, so you can’t be too mad. Alice and Caroline are impossible to keep out of here.” She giggled as Draco summoned the second bottle, and by now he was pretty sure it was the wine causing her giggles. He opened it anyway, and watched in amusement as Rose got increasingly animated, and then sleepy as they neared the bottom of the second bottle. 

She was laying on her back with her head in his lap when he finally got up the courage to ask. 

“You’re planning on coming back, right?” 

She gave him an odd look that he couldn’t decipher, and questioned, “Do you want me to come back?” 

“Of course I do.” He smoothed his hand over her hair that fanned out over his legs and across the bed, the rich browns and golds appearing even darker in the low light. She didn’t respond, falling asleep while he played with her hair, and he was right behind her. 

***

Waking up with a stiff neck and a mild hangover was never his ideal morning, but waking up in a witch’s bed without the witch it belonged to took the cake. Even worse, when he sat up and pushed the hangings aside, he was met with a symphony of giggles. 

“Good morning, lover boy.” Alice grinned devilishly from her perch on Caroline’s bed. He scowled at her, running a hand through his hair. 

“Where’s Rose?” His throat felt like he’d gargled with sandpaper. 

“Her portkey left early this morning. She said to tell you thank you for the gifts.” Caroline beamed. He nodded tiredly, and grabbed his bag from the foot of Rose’s bed. A small, gold wrapped package was perched on top, and he shoved it in his pocket rather than open it in front of the girls. 

“Happy Christmas!” The two girls sang as he left the room. The Ravenclaw common room was blissfully empty, but he didn’t have the same luck with his own. 

Pansy was grinning like the Cheshire Cat from a seat in front of the fire with a cup of tea. His scowl lessened when she passed him a cup, but he was still feeling decidedly ill-tempered. 

“I’m going to assume based on that expression you didn’t get laid last night.” 

“But you did.” He slumped down in the chair, irritated by a whole host of things, not the least of which being he still had no idea if Rose was going to come back or not.

“Yes, but we’re talking about you.” Pansy took a dainty sip from her cup. 

“No, we’re not.”

“Suit yourself. But you better get packed; you overslept and it’s nearly noon. Aparationists leave in half an hour.” 

Draco swore, springing up and disappearing into his dorm to pack. 


	18. Plans

Somehow he’d managed to shower, dress, pack, and make it to the Great Hall all in twenty minutes. He’d grabbed an apple and eaten it on the carriage ride to Hogsmead, where he could safely apparate home. He landed in the entryway, the polished marble gleaming and his head aching, but he didn’t allow it to show as he entered his mother’s office. 

“Hello, Mother.” Draco leaned down to kiss her cheek, noting with passing interest the paint chips and fabric swatches spread across the desk in front of her. He’d been correct in the assumption that his mother would be redecorating. 

“Hello, dear.” Narcissa’s sharp blue eyes looked him up and down, as if she wasn’t quite sure he was here in one piece. Since the Battle, she’d been anxious to let Draco from her sight; allowing him to return to Hogwarts had been painful for her. It had only been three months, but the stress still showed in Narcissa’s face and frame. 

Despite the stress, Narcissa was beautiful. There wasn’t a witch or wizard alive that would deny that. Today she was in an icy blue sheath dress, her long blonde hair swept up in a French twist. She looked thinner than Draco remembered, but she seemed at ease now he was back home. 

“How was your first term?” The seemingly innocuous question was loaded; she wanted to know if he’d been threatened or if there had been any trouble. 

“It was fine. How were things in France?” Draco walked around the room, restless now he was back here, despite his poor night’s rest. It may have been home, but it had been polluted by the Dark Lord and his deeds. The whole house seemed too oppressive. 

“Fine. The Dumonts send their regards, and while there your father and I decided to make changes to the house.” She gestured to the swatches and paint chips. “We’ll be remodeling most of the first floor once you go back to school.”

Draco nodded distractedly, staring out the window. 

“Draco, dear. What’s wrong?” Narcissa’s straight backed posture didn’t change, but her countenance softened. 

“Mother, I’m fine. I’m just…”

“It’s difficult being here. I understand. Your father may not admit it, but he isn’t any more comfortable here than either of us are.” 

He nodded, bile rising in his throat. He doubted that his father knew how he felt. He was just waiting for the fallout when it came out he’d been dating Rose. His mother may be disappointed, but his father would be livid. But then… Was he dating Rose? Would she go back?

“Speaking of your father, he wants to speak to you when you’ve settled in.” He tensed, and Narcissa clicked her tongue. “Draco, don’t be angry with him. He misses you.” 

“He has an odd way of showing it. He hasn’t said a word to me in months.” 

“Draco…” Narcissa stood, approaching her son. She was tall, but Draco was still half a head taller, and looked down on her. She took his hands in hers, her eyes pleading with him. “Your father has been answering for a great number of things since then. He and I have had to change our ways of thinking, and it’s not been easy. Truth be told, he’s been doing a better job of it than I have. You have always been my focus, and he hasn’t had that luxury.”

Draco scoffed, but Narcissa tightened her hold. “Hear him out. Just listen to what he has to say. Please.” Her blue eyes pierced through him like knives, and he caved. 

“Fine. I’ll listen, but that’s all I can promise.” Draco squared his shoulders, and Narcissa let his hands fall. 

“You are so much more like him than you will ever know. I just hope you learn how to make it work for you before you dismiss it.” Draco didn’t know what to say to that. He had looked up to his father so much, and then he’d learned exactly what the cost was. He had to resist the urge to scratch at his left forearm, at the mark that would forever remind him how wrong he’d been. 

“Go see him before dinner. The house elves are making your favorite roast tonight.” Narcissa reseated herself before the paint chips, and turned her attention to the piece of parchment she’d been making notes on. 

Draco took the dismissal at face value, leaving his mother. Instead of his father’s study, he turned toward the library, the one room in the house the Dark Lord hadn’t seemed to care about. Inside, he wandered around the shelves, trying to work out some of the restlessness he felt. 

He’d been surprised to hear that his parents decided to spend Christmas at Malfoy Manor. He’d assumed they would stay at the chateau in France, but apparently Lucius was returning to the House of Lords in the new year, and was considering how to best spend his time otherwise. Before the war he’d been deeply involved at the Ministry, but it sounded as if he was gearing towards more time at Gringotts. 

The stacks and stacks of books were oddly comforting; something about the familiarity mixed with the unknown of what lurked in the shelves, waiting to be found intrigued him and kept his mind from dwelling too long on that matters at hand. He’d spent countless hours in this library over the years, most recently hiding from the Dark Lord. His stomach twisted, thinking of where he’d been just one year previous. His father disgraced, his mother broken and battered, he himself a mere shadow of what he thought he would be. 

He couldn’t shake the memory of his father shielding his mother’s unconscious body after the Dark Lord found out they’d had Potter and let him escape. He’d tortured them all, but he had started with Narcissa; simply because she meant the most to the greatest number of people involved. Draco had been next, though he’d stayed conscious, if only just. Lucius had been last, after Aunt Bella and the other Death Eaters involved. Draco suspected he’d made Lucius wait to torture him even more, forcing him to listen to everyone under his roof succumb to the pain because he’d failed yet again. 

Which is what Draco supposed be was doing to himself now. Putting off punishment and suffering for it. When the clock chimed five o’clock, he couldn’t put it off any longer. So he straightened, and left the sanctuary of the library behind to seek out his father. 

*******

“Come in.” Lucius’ silken voice carried through the heavy wood door to his study, answering Draco’s knock. The door swung open on silent hinges, and Draco steeled himself. 

Stepping into the room, he adopted the mask of indifference that his father so often wore. The room had been already been rearranged, the furniture reupholstered since he had last been here. Instead of blacks and greys, warm browns and forest greens met him. It felt softer, more welcoming; in a way it was even more disconcerting. 

The Lucius that Draco saw in his memories from the last year wasn’t the same one that met him in the study. Gone was the too-thin body and gaunt, unshaven face. His father’s robes were plainer than those he remembered from his childhood, but still just as finely made. His white-blond hair was thick and shiny once more, tied at the nape of his neck with a black silk ribbon, not unlike the ones Rose conjured for her own hair. Lucius’ grey eyes were still haunted, but his iron resolve had returned. He stood when Draco entered, stepping away from his desk. 

“Draco.”

“Father. I was told you wished to speak with me.” Draco reverted to stilted formality, unsure of what was to come. Lucius beckoned him forward, turning to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of wine. Draco had to hide his surprise when Lucius passed him the glass and poured a second before taking his seat. 

“I trust your studies are going well enough.”

“They are. I have actually been interning with Aurora Sinistra, assisting with Ancient Rune translations.” Draco took a sip of the wine, feeling as if he was being lulled into a false sense of security, wary of where this was going. 

“Your mother mentioned that. Is it something you’re planning on pursuing once you’re finished at Hogwarts?” Lucius was watching him carefully, and he was determined not to let anything slip. 

“I am considering it, though a potions mastery has been suggested as well.” Lucius nodded thoughtfully, and Draco’s stomach clenched. He didn’t know the last time he’d had a conversation like this with the man; if he’d  _ ever  _ had a conversation like this with his father. 

“I wanted to discuss with you what to expect in the coming year. As your mother conveyed, we have returned to Britain with the intention to stay. I will be retaking my place in the House of Lords, and conducting my business with Gringotts. Furthermore, I have made the decision to attempt to reintegrate myself into the Ministry.” Lucius swirled the wine in his glass, eyes focused intently on the ruby liquid. 

“I intend to keep my involvement limited, as I am still widely distrusted, but have hopes to regain my former political pull, as it may be.”

“Are you mad?” The words spilled from Draco’s mouth before he could stop them, and immediately steeled himself for Lucius’ wrath. Instead, Lucius smiled wryly. 

“Perhaps. But I have had much time to think and consider the future for myself, your mother, and for you. It is painfully clear that I have much to atone for, and I hope to be a force of change within the Ministry, given the opportunity.” He took a sip of wine, letting his words hang in the air. 

Draco blinked, trying to process what his father’s intentions implied. 

“The Ministry won’t be what it was,” he started carefully. “They will be watching every move you make. Pure blooded or not, anything you say will be met with opposition.” Lucius nodded gravely. 

“Which is why I intend to lobby for protective laws for muggleborns to begin with.” Draco choked on his wine. Eyes watering, he watched his father for any sign that he was joking. 

“I was taught that blood status was everything. I regret that I passed on such foolhardy beliefs to you, because I’m finding that blood status has little to no bearing on what kind of witch or wizard one becomes.” Draco looked at him with open wonder. 

“You’re actually serious.” Lucius nodded again. 

“Every part of myself screams that I am making a mistake, that what I have planned is shameful and made in distaste, but I have to start with myself. I hope you will find it within yourself to push past the prejudices that I instilled in you, and to forgive me.”

Draco felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. Was his father actually asking him for forgiveness?” 

“I’m dating a halfblood.” Again the words slipped from his lips, and Draco felt the blood drain from his face. 

Anger flickered over Lucius’ face, but he put his glass carefully down and took a deep breath. Draco could almost see his internal wrestling match. He watched and waited, wondering if his newfound tolerance extended to his son… Not that Draco knew if it was even true or not. 

“My immediate response is to be disappointed,” Lucius ground out. “But I cannot expect change without changing myself. I will need time, but I will endeavor to accept, if not embrace whomever you choose, Draco.” 

Draco’s jaw dropped. “Fucking hell.”

“I still expect you to watch your language,” Lucius snapped. 

Draco snapped his mouth shut. “Sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I just… This is… Not what I expected.”

Lucius cleared his throat, looking away. “I want to be someone my son can be proud of.”

Draco stared at the wineglass in his hands. He’d feared and respected his father, but had he ever been proud of him? Had Lucius ever been proud of him?

“I hope to be someone you can be proud of, too.” Lucius looked up, and he thought his silver eyes shone just a bit brighter. 

“I am already proud of you, Draco.”

They sat in silence until it was time for dinner, and Draco hoped for the first time that his relationship with his father would be something more than what it had been. 

***

Later that night as he dressed for bed, the small, gold box fell from his pocket. He’d forgotten it in the rush of the day, and now he sat with it in his hands, he wondered if this box held the answer he’d been looking for. 

He held his breath as he slid it open, and a note fell out. 

_Draco,_

_ What do you get the man that has everything?  _

_How about the knowledge that you’re the only one that gets me this color._

_ -Rose _

In the box was a folded ribbon. Bright, sunny yellow, it was the one he’d tried to match with the diamond. He just hoped it meant what he thought it did. 

  
  



	19. History

Over the next several days, Draco made a point to spend time with both of his parents. It was easier with Narcissa, but it always had been easier to connect with his mother. Lucius was difficult to relax around, but he was trying, and that was more than Draco ever expected.

He was finding that his parents truly had the perfect relationship. They complimented each other, never competing for anything. She was soft curves where his father was sharp edges, quiet acquiescence against his echoing demand. He wasn’t sure if it had always been that way, and he was just now noticing, or if something had changed since the war. 

Nothing more had been said about Draco’s admission to dating a halfblood since the first night, and he wasn’t sure if Lucius even told Narcissa, until Christmas Eve. 

“Tell me about the girl.” The three of them had gathered in Lucius’ study after dinner, Lucius and Narcissa on the sofa, with Draco stretched out on the rug in front of the fire. He was on his side with a book on dragon breeds open in front of him. 

He’d been shooting stealthy glances at his parents, intrigued by their semi-open affection. The most he ever saw from them was Lucius’ arm around Narcissa, or a brief kiss as they came or went. Seeing her tucked into his side was almost surreal, and Narcissa’s request jarred him from his thoughts of Rose tucked under his own arm. 

“What?” 

“You told me you were dating someone.” Lucius interjected smoothly. 

“Her name is Rose.” Draco fiddled with the edge of the rug. “Actually her given name is Grace, but she hates it.” He smirked at the memory of her seething at Professor Sprout for mistakenly calling her by her given name for the first several weeks of the term. 

“Very pretty names, both of them.” Narcissa was gently prodding for more information without asking. 

“She’s a transfer, seventh year.”

“Slytherin?” He could hear the hope in his father’s voice. 

“Ravenclaw. She could be a Slytherin, though... She thinks the Gryffindors are all idiots.” He snorted. “She’s actually been working with me on the Rune translations.” He kept picking at the rug. 

“Is that how you met?” Narcissa urged. 

“She transferred from Ilvermorny, and somehow ended up in every single one of my classes. She sat next to me because nobody else would, and couldn’t keep her damn hair to herself. Then she decided to take over the classroom I was using to study in. She’s bloody infuriating, really.” 

Lucius was chuckling, and Narcissa elbowed him gently. “So what changed?” Draco paused. He couldn’t exactly tell them that she’d cornered him to piss off her father, or that he had no idea if he was ever going to see her again. He swallowed hard, pushing away the fear and doubt he felt. 

“I’m not sure, really. One day I was cursing her braid and her ribbons and her infuriating habit of being right about everything and the next she was laid up in the hospital wing with the flu and I was going crazy without her.” He stopped, smiling to himself. 

“She doesn’t care what anyone thinks. People said terrible things about us and she just brushed it all off. We went to a party before the end of term and this Hufflepuff got handsy… She let loose on him. She got him detention for the rest of the year, actually, after she broke her hand on his face.” Narcissa’s eyebrows flew up, Lucius shaking with silent laughter. 

“He deserves it, a lot of the girls came forward because he’s been giving them all a hard time. But she didn’t even think twice. Astoria Greengrass healed her hand and has been her biggest fan since; we’ve taken to playing chess with a bunch of the Ravenclaws, actually. Evidently Axios Fairview’s father is still annoyed you beat him your seventh year.” 

Lucius laughed out loud, a sound Draco hadn’t heard in years, and Narcissa’s eyes were wide. 

“Anyway. She’s going back to the US when we’re done, so I doubt it will last. But… She’s great.” Draco‘s smile faded. 

“Wait… I don’t actually know how you met.” He looked between his parents, and Lucius deferred to Narcissa, who smiled nostalgically. 

“Our families naturally knew each other, but it wasn’t until we went to Hogwarts that we got to know each other personally. He was a prefect my second year, and was constantly getting after Bella.”

“Could you blame me?” Lucius rolled his eyes. 

“No, but you thought I would be just like her,” Narcissa said indignantly. Draco grimaced at the thought of his mother being anything like Bellatrix. 

“Anyway. He thought I was going to turn out like Bella, so he was always spying on me in the library and the common room. 

“I did not  _ spy.”  _

“He spied. And I thought he was charming and handsome despite it.” She smiled at her husband, a light blush spreading across her cheeks. 

“And then you played hard to get for the next five years,” Lucius complained good-naturedly. 

“A lady doesn’t make her intentions obvious,” Narcissa deadpanned. “Thank my mother.” Draco snorted. That sounded exactly like the nonsense his grandmother would have spouted. 

“Once I finished at Hogwarts, she was all too eager to get our betrothal finalized, so I can’t complain too much.” Lucius stroked her arm affectionately. Narcissa laughed, a tinkling laugh Draco also hadn’t heard in a long time. 

“So you always knew you’d end up like this.” Draco picked at the rug again. 

“I hoped,” Lucius admitted. 

“Oh please. I never so much as looked at anyone else.” Narcissa’s eyes sparkled. “You on the other hand… Beatrice Flint? Cordelia Avery? Oh and the annoying one…McMillan! Edith McMillan.” 

Lucius rolled his eyes at her teasing. “As I said, you played hard to get.” Draco burst out laughing. 

“Cordelia Avery as in Cordelia Parkinson? You dated Pansy’s mum? No wonder she was so upset I took her to the Yule Ball.” 

Lucious sniffed. “It was a temporary lapse in judgement.” Draco kept laughing until his eyes watered. Narcissa had a smug smile in place, and Lucius huffed, pulling her closer. 

“You were the only one I ever loved, though.” He kissed the top of her head, and her smile melted into true happiness. 

Draco went back to picking at the rug. He’d always known his parents loved each other, but this went beyond that. His father was not affectionate, but here he was, challenging everything he’d come to expect from his father. It was like rewriting history. 

Even the translation and his quest to find the dragon it talked about couldn’t hold his attention after that, so he snapped the book shut, and rolled to his back, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. This was what he wanted; a Christmas with his parents that felt… normal. But now he had it, he couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d missed out on because of choices they’d all made. 

Narcissa was nodding off, her head laying on Lucius’ shoulder when Draco opened his eyes again. How much had  _ they _ missed out on because of their choices? He shook it off, taking the book and leaving to take it back to the library. On his way back to his room, he caught Lucius carrying Narcissa down the hall, cradling her tenderly to his chest. 

The sight made him stop in his tracks. He couldn’t imagine either of them with anyone else, and he wondered if he’d ever have that. Or worse, if he had it, and it just slipped through his fingers. 


	20. Not For Show

January, 1999

The rest of the Christmas holiday went entirely too quickly, and Draco was dreading returning to Hogwarts for an entirely different reason than when the term began. He felt as if he’d gotten to know both of his parents better over the last two weeks, and gotten a glimpse of who they were without the weight of a war and dark magic hanging over their heads. 

His father still had flares of anger, and was constantly correcting himself when speaking of muggleborns or magical creatures, but he was making an extraordinary effort. Draco had caught him using “please” and “thank you” with the house elves  _ twice.  _ He and Draco actually had fruitful discussions and he listened to what Draco had to say. They played round after round of chess, but Draco still had yet to beat him. 

Narcissa seemed happier than he could ever remember her being, and Draco regretted not being able to stay longer with her. She was throwing herself into the remodel of the Manor, and she assured him it would be done when he returned after school. 

He aparated back, and on the platform in Hogsmead, he found Pansy and Blaise with Daphne and Astoria. 

“Where’s Rose?” Astoria looked around, as if Draco was hiding her behind his cloak. 

“I have no idea. She was in the US over the holiday, we haven’t had a chance to talk since then.” Draco thought back to their parting conversation. He just hoped that she was actually coming back. 

He got antsy in the carriage ride, his stomach twisting at the sight of the thestrals. Astoria noticed, but didn’t say a word. She stayed at his side as they made their way into the Great Hall for dinner. Alice saw them coming, and was out of her seat at the Ravenclaw table before they could take theirs with the Slytherins. 

“Thank fucking Merlin you’re back. You need to go see Rose. Like, yesterday.” Draco’s relief to hear she was in the castle was nearly palpable, but short lived. He could see Astoria’s wince as the girl’s nails cut into her arm, and thanked Merlin himself the Ravenclaw was still just nervous enough around him to keep her claws to herself. 

“Fine. Where is she?” His eyes swept over the Hall again, but he still didn’t see Rose or even Hope. 

“She’s in our dorm. She got back a couple days ago and won’t get out of bed.” Alice glanced around furtively, not that anyone was close enough to hear. “She really got into it with her parents. Her sister was there yesterday having a go at her. She usually yells right back, but she just sat there and took it. It took three of us to get her out of the dorm, and Flitwick had to ban her from our common room.” 

Astoria’s eyes were wide with worry, and she grabbed Draco’s wrist. “Go see her. I’ll get you both some dinner sent up if you’re not back before it’s over.” 

He nodded numbly, turning and heading purposefully towards Ravenclaw tower. Scenarios ran through his head, each worse than the last until he reached the door. The bronze eagle ruffled its metallic feathers, blinking down at him. 

“Everyone asks for me, though no one wants to face me. For some I am agony, for other I am relief. What am I?” 

Draco groaned. Bloody Ravenclaws couldn’t just have a password. They had to go and make it difficult. By some stroke of luck though, the door swung open, a knot of second years scurrying through. He took the opportunity, slipping through the door and into the common room. 

It was mostly empty, a few solitary students scattered around the room. One caught his eye. Axios Fairview sat in a corner reading a letter, a ridiculous goofy grin on his face. The broken pink wax seal told Draco precisely why. He rolled his eyes, leaving him to his sappy happiness. 

Draco knocked softly on the door to Rose’s dorms. When there was no answer, he pushed the door open. The room was cleaner today than it had been last time he’d been inside, but he supposed most of its occupants hadn’t been back yet. 

The drapes were pulled around Rose’s bed, the heavy blue velvet hanging still. 

“Rose?” No answer. So he pulled the hangings back, his stomach dropping at the empty bed. 

“Draco?” He jumped at the unexpected voice from behind him, the drapes falling back into place. Rose was emerging from the bathroom, her hair tangled and her pink pajamas wrinkled, as if she hadn’t changed out of them in days. Her eyes were red and puffy, the tip of her nose rubbed raw. The yellow diamond was nowhere to be seen. 

“What are you doing here?” She shuffled awkwardly, crossing her arms. 

“Alice said you were here… She thought you needed some company.” Draco explained carefully. He watched Rose’s eyes fill with tears again, even as she shook her head violently. 

“Rose…” he mimicked the soft tone she sometimes used with him. “What happened?” Her bottom lip began to quiver, and she tightened her arms around herself. He crossed the few feet between them, standing just inches away. Her self control crumbled, and she leaned into him, sobs breaking free. 

He was disgusted with his own relief, but wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Much like after the disaster at the Hufflepuff party, once the tears started, they couldn’t be stopped. 

“Come on now.” He pulled her toward the bed as her tears quieted fractionally. She crawled up between the sheets, and he perched on the edge until she tugged on his arm. 

Uncertainty flooded through him, but he moved up beside her, sitting with his back against the headboard and his long legs stretched out over the covers. She curled up against his side, her head on his chest. 

“This isn’t for show anymore, is it?” Her voice was small, and she sniffed pathetically against his chest. The resignation of her question broke what little doubt he had left. 

“No, it’s not.” He stroked her back with one hand, finding one of hers with the other. She laced her fingers through his, shaking her head. 

“I didn’t want to believe it until I heard it from you.” Draco huffed a laugh, but quickly sobered. 

“Tell me what happened when you went home.”

“My dad was livid. My mom couldn’t even talk him down… I thought being at my grandparent’s would keep him from saying anything too bad, but he lost it. And then I made it worse by telling him that you were a better man than he was because you don’t treat me like a doormat like he treats my mom.”

Draco sighed. “You really don't pull your punches.” 

“Maybe I should… But I was so angry. Mom was crying and he was yelling, and of course Hope took his side…” She shook her head morosely. 

“I heard Little Miss Sunshine was here.” She snorted, wiping her eyes with the back of her free hand. 

“She was. Luckily Alice stayed for the holidays to spend time with her new boyfriend, and they came back to get something not too long after she got here.”

“Who’s the new boyfriend?”

“Damien Jones. He’s a Gryffindor seventh year, but seems to be a little less stupid than some of the others.”

“Isn’t he Dominic Jones’ brother?” 

“Cousin, I think.” She was quiet for a moment, until she glared up at him for chuckling. “What’s so funny?” 

“When you first got here, you didn’t even want to learn the house names. And now you’re spouting off who’s related to who.” 

“I blame my boyfriend,” she grumbled, but finally cracked a watery smile. 

“He sounds like an idiot.”

“He’s one of the green assholes. But he’s my green asshole.” She leaned up, angling for a kiss. 

“You’ll have to try harder than that.” Draco smirked at her pout, then captured her protruding bottom lip in a soft kiss. 


	21. Alone

He left after eating the dinner Astoria had sent up for them, feeling settled for the first time in weeks. He was stopped in the Ravenclaw common room by Alice and Caroline, who were relieved to hear that Rose was fine and they were no longer in the line of fire. Astoria likewise caught him in the Slytherin dungeons, and she was equally grateful to hear she hadn’t driven the girl away. 

The next morning at breakfast, Professor Flitwick gave Rose’s schedule to him as she was running late, and he was pleased to see that they’d been given identical schedules again. When Rose showed up twenty minutes later, her damp hair was still loose. 

He passed her schedule over with a cup of coffee, and she read over it while she braided her hair. When she reached the end of it, Draco was satisfied to see the ribbon that emerged was bright, sunny yellow. The same color as her diamond… the color that meant she was happy. Not the butter yellow that meant she was in a good mood, but the solid lemon yellow that meant she was truly, undeniably happy. 

She was still tying it around her hair when Astoria and Alice dropped into the seats next to them. Alice was moaning about her NEWTs, from the look of it, Astoria was only half listening. They were then joined by Damian Jones, and to Draco’s surprise, Neville Longbottom. 

Greetings were exchanged, and Neville, who was seated next to Astoria and opposite Draco leaned over. 

“I had some time over the break, and I was looking for any plants that match the description you gave me, but the two I mentioned were the only ones I could find that might fit. Astoria smiled into her porridge, and Rose leaned in closer to listen. 

“You mean the foreign one—“

“That thrives in ash and embers?” Neville finished, nodding. “The one that fits the best is one called Dragon’s Breath. 

“I was looking for the right dragon over the break, but I’m still coming up empty,” Draco supplied. 

Rose’s excitement deflated a bit. “Freaking divination…” Draco and Neville shared a dark look, but didn’t say anything more. Neville proceeded to strike up a conversation with Astoria about her work with Madam Pomfrey, and Draco was surprised to learn he was planning on applying for the Auror program after his NEWTs. 

“Hey so is Axios,” Alice chimed in from the other side. “I think he’s barking mad though. I’m angling for a place in the Improper Use of Magic Office at the Ministry myself…” 

Damian Jones was trying to get on with the Department of Magical Transportation, and Rose chimed in that she was hoping to get on with MACUSA’s International Law offices or the International Confederation of Wizards. Draco stayed quiet. He still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, or who would have him. He supposed he’d have to wait and see what happened with his father. 

They all ended up having Charms together first period, save Astoria, and they were still chattering when they took their seats. Draco and Rose took their seats in the back corner, but Neville insisted they sat in the front corner with the rest of them instead. 

Similar instances happened the rest of the week, and before he knew it, it was Friday night and his and Rose’s classroom had been taken over by not just Astoria, but by Alice and Damian, Pansy and Theo, Neville, Axios, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff, as well as a handful of others. More desks had been transfigured into armchairs, and impromptu study groups were forming in various corners of the room. 

Rose and Draco still had claim to the teachers desk and blackboard, but he watched in amusement as the others formed rather unlikely groups. Axios, Neville, and Astoria were practicing transfiguration just behind them, while Alice, Damian, Theo and Susan were quizzing each other on potions near the door. Hannah and Pansy were in another corner with several charms books littered around them. The others were talking defensive spells hear the middle of the back wall. 

“When you said you were fixing things, I didn’t know you were going to invite half the school,” Rose complained under her breath as they leaned over a Herbology essay together. 

“I didn’t plan this! Blame Astoria,” he shot back. 

“I’m just saying we had all the time in the world alone last term and now I actually want to kiss you, we can’t get a second to ourselves!” 

“I mean, what are the chances they’ll all be here tomorrow and Sunday? And if that fails there’s always that alcove behind that tapestry off the entrance hall…” he smirked at her seriously weighing the option. 

“Oy, Draco!” His head snapped up to Neville waving him over. “You’re great at transfiguration. Why can’t Axios get rid of the fur from the rat to the hand mirror?”

Draco spent the next hour assisting with transfiguration, and returned to Rose just to have her called over by Pansy and Hannah to assist with a Locomotion charm. Draco called Neville over to help with his essay, and Axios was called on to help with a defensive spell.

By the end of the night, Draco was irritated that NEWTs were so aptly named, and Rose had fallen asleep curled up in the chair next to him. The others were similarly exhausted, and Draco feared this is what the next six months were doomed to be like. 

“Rose, wake up.” Draco yawned, prodding her shoulder, and the sleeping girl didn’t move. “Rosie. I’m not carrying you up to your bloody tower. Come on.” This time he shook her gently, and she moaned. “Wake up.” She opened her eyes, blinking blearily at him. 

“What time is it?” She yawned, stretching out. 

“Eleven thirty.”

She groaned, looking around at the students stretched out around the room. 

“How do we get them all to leave?” 

“Not my problem,” he pulled her to her feet. “We have twenty minutes and I intend to use them wisely.” She smiled wickedly as he led her into the hallway, up a floor, and into a hidden alcove, where true to his word, he spent the next fifteen minutes kissing her dizzy. 

By February, Draco and Rose’s classroom was  _ the _ NEWT and OWL study spot. Axios brought Vivienne and Hazel Harlow, and Astoria had a smattering of other 6th years that still had to take their OWLs from the other houses that took up the back corner most nights. Astoria had already taken them, but was already panicking over her NEWTs and insisted that whatever she mastered now was one more thing she wouldn’t have to cram for next year. 

Draco was torn between appreciating the help with every subject possible, and missing his alone time. Or rather, his alone time with Rose, who was currently standing at the chalkboard with her hands on her hips and her yellow ribbon coming untied. It was yellow more and more often, but he was fairly certain if she conjured one now it would be hot pink. 

“For the love. Flowers and dragons and now marks. Can this get any more convoluted?” She moved aside so Draco could see what she’d written. 

_ Marks uncovered, set aflame  _

_ Heal the hearts of generations _

He sighed. “I can only guess that means the Dark Marks, but I don’t see how they can be set on fire.” 

The door swung open, but Draco ignored it until the room went silent. 

“Miss Beaulieu.” Professor McGonagall stood just inside, her expression severe. “Come with me please.”

Everyone stared as the girl stood, looking nervous. Hazel Harlow and Axios Fairview shared a look, and stood until McGonagall gave them a sharp look. They sank back down as McGonagall and the girl left the room. Whispers erupted, and Draco turned back to Rose. 

“If that ever happens to me, it means my father is here. Just go ahead and kill me first,” she murmured. 

Half an hour later, the door opened again; this time it was tiny Professor Flitwick. “Miss Harlow, Mr Fairview. Please collect Miss Beaulieu’s things and come with me.”

The two Ravenclaws went white, but did as they were told. 

“If that ever happens to me,” he murmured to Rose, “it means my father’s been murdered.” 

***

The three Ravenclaws didn’t reappear that night, and when Axios and Hazel appeared at the breakfast tables the next morning, they were subdued and didn’t speak to anyone. 

“Her dad died in a Muggle accident of some kind,” Alice whispered to them in Charms. “They were really close.” Susan Bones went sickly pale, and Draco remembered with a sinking feeling that her whole family had been killed by the Dark Lord and had been unfortunate enough to find out in much the same way. 

“Fairview said she went mental, screaming and crying…” “They had to get Pomfrey to give her a Draught of Peace...” “Hazel cried all night. She spent part of Christmas hols with them…” 

Draco and Rose kept quiet, both of them painfully aware that if it had been them, Draco would have expected it, and there was a possibility that Rose would have celebrated. 

Later that night, Rose left the classroom early whispering that she needed some time alone. Draco echoed her sentiment, and was on the way down to the common room when he found Astoria perched in a window, hugging her legs and silent tears dripping down her cheeks. 

“Tori?” Had it been anyone else, he would have skirted past and not said a word. She jumped, wiping the tears away even as more fell. 

“Sorry. I’m fine.” 

Draco passed her a handkerchief, leaning against the wall at her feet, staring at a painting of a meadow, it’s normal occupants away visiting another frame somewhere. He didn’t say anything, and she didn’t either until raindrops started hitting the window. 

“The war is over, but people still die for no good reason. What kind of world is that?” 

Draco considered her question, and sighed when he came to his answer. 

“One I don’t want to be alone in.” 


	22. Catastrophe

Viv returned a week later, her eyes perpetually red and puffy. Two days later, Draco was in Ravenclaw tower before dinner with Rose, and he caught sight of her in a chair, staring unseeingly out the window over the lake. Draco was reminded of victims of the Dementor’s Kiss. Alive, but lifeless. 

Axios sat at her feet, and Hazel snapped at anyone that came too close. Draco wondered if she realized how much the people around her cared for her, and considered for a moment that until Rose, he didn’t truly understand what that was like. He scooted closer to her, his arm firmly around her as she did a muggle crossword puzzle and he read a book. 

“What’s an eight letter word for disaster?” 

“Disaster.” Draco smirked at her scowl. “Calamity.” 

She wrote it in with a pencil and moved on to the next clue. 

He jumped when someone grabbed his arm. Looking up, he saw with relief it was Astoria. He should have known, none of the other Ravenclaws were that comfortable with him yet. His irritation at being caught off guard faded when she saw her expression. 

“What?” His stomach was sinking like a stone. 

“Did you know your parents are here?” 

A shot of panic sliced through him like a lightning bolt. 

“Mine? Are you sure?” 

She rolled her eyes. “No, two of the most recognizable people in the country were in the entrance hall and I figured somebody got into the polyjuice.” Rose looked between them, confused. 

Draco took a deep breath. “Well if they wanted me to know, they would have said something.” This was more than a calamity. This was a straight up catastrophe. 

“I think being in the entrance hall was a statement. If they really didn’t want you to know, they’d be in Professor McGonagall’s office, not making the second years cry.” Astoria’s hand was still on his arm and she squeezed tighter. 

“She’s right you know,” Rose sniffed, turning back to her puzzle. “You should probably go. If they have to get Flitwick to pull you out of here, it might not end well.” She glanced over her shoulder at Viv and her two companions. 

“Do you both have to be right all the time? It’s bloody irritating.” Draco’s anxiety spiked again, and Rose shared a look with Astoria. 

“Rose why don’t you and I go down and wait in the dungeons for him to finish?” Rose was already putting her puzzle in her bag and pulling her robes back on, and Astoria finally released his arm. 

Draco’s eyes landed on her charcoal grey ribbon, and sighed. 

He stood and without waiting for the two girls, left quickly. 

Yes, showing their faces prominently near dinner time was a power play. He passed a fifth year Gryffindor who squeaked and threw herself to the far side of the corridor rather than come too close to him. A fourth year Hufflepuff turned and walked in a completely different direction rather than pass him in the hallway at all. He was cursing their names by the time he reached the gargoyle that guarded the headmistress’s office. 

“Queen’s Gambit.” He was fairly certain he was one of the few that appreciated McGonagall’s chess-themed passwords for the year, but the thought didn’t put him at ease. His mask of indifference firmly in place, he waited. 

The gargoyle kept aside, allowing him to pass up the spiral staircase and knock on the door. It swung open, revealing the Headmistress alone at her desk. 

“Mr Malfoy.” He stepped into the room, his stomach churning. Severus’ portrait was missing from the wall behind her desk. 

“I was informed my parents were here. I assumed they’d be here.” A quick glance around the room proved him wrong. 

“I believe they were here to see Professor Sinistra. But before you go, I wanted to speak with you.” She motioned to the high backed chair before her. 

He sat stiffly, and she waited a moment before addressing him. 

“I do not make it a habit to get involved with my student’s personal choices, Mr Malfoy, but seeing as you’re playing with fire…” He waited, not sure where this was headed. 

“Your relationship with Miss Hollingsworth puts you both in a delicate situation. I’m sure you know her father is unhappy with the arrangements, and I can’t imagine your father is any happier.”

“He’s fine.” Her raised eyebrows was the closest thing to shock he'd ever seen on the unflappable woman, and he nearly laughed. 

“Very well. I simply think you should tread carefully. Mr Hollingsworth is making big changes within the Ministry, and he will not hesitate to… restrict… any future endeavors.”

“Thank you for the concern, Headmistress.” Draco’s cool appreciation seemed to satiate her, and she waved to the door, wordlessly spelling it open again. He left with a pit in his stomach. 

Was Rose’s father prominent enough to make his own father’s reintroduction to the Ministry impossible? He pushed the thought away. He would talk to Rose about it later. Now he needed to find out why his parents felt the need to drop by in the middle of the term without telling him. 

Aurora Sinistra’s office was on the fourth floor, one story up, on the far side of the castle. Not for the first time, Draco was bemoaning the sheer number of staircases it took to get from one point to another, and his bad temper was exacerbated when he saw the long, dark-chocolate colored ponytail he knew so well. 

“I thought you two were going to wait in the dungeons.”

Astoria looked sheepish, but Rose’s defiance positively dripped from her. “And we changed our minds.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to the corridor that led to the Ancient Runes classroom and Sinistra’s office. 

He could hear his father’s voice before he saw them. The rich baritone was like silk, if silk had razor sharp teeth and bit back. His mother’s voice was softer, and for some reason he paused before getting too close, wanting to just hear them speak again, like he had at Christmas. 

“...Draco’s spoken very highly of your abilities,” Narcissa was saying. 

“It’s a shame you’ve decided not to continue.” Lucius agreed. Wait. Sinistra couldn’t be leaving, could she? 

“I appreciate your kind words, but it’s for the best. My husband is just glad that I’ll have time to breathe again.” Sinistra was  _ married _ ? 

“Indeed.” That was Narcissa. 

“Though I’m ever so grateful to Draco for the work he’s done. He and Rose make quite the team.” 

“Do they?” Draco could only imagine the look on his father’s face. 

“Draco has positively bloomed this year. He’s responsible for one of the more impressive NEWT study groups I’ve seen, and I hear he’s quite the teacher himself.” He could hear the pride in the younger woman’s voice, and he felt a surge of affection for the witch. 

Deciding he wasn’t sure that he wanted either of his parents to spoil that one for him, he straightened and strode through the door. 

“Father. Mother. Professor.”

Narcissa was perched in a chair across from Professor Sinistra’s desk, her ankles crossed and hands folded primly. Lucius towered behind her, his hands folded over the head of his walking stick. Neither were in the stark black the public had come to expect over the last several years. Narcissa had chosen a soft blue dress, his father in grey dress robes. 

“Draco, darling.” His mother smiled, reaching out to him. He took her hand briefly, brushing a kiss to her cheek before stepping back. Locking his hands behind his back, he stood up straight. 

“I apologise, I would have been here sooner but I was speaking with the Headmistress.” 

Lucius narrowed his eyes, but accepted the half-truth. “We would have informed you ahead of time, but this trip was rather last minute.”

“I suppose that was my fault.” Professor Sinatra explained apologetically. “I gave the board such short notice.”

The board? Draco’s stomach sunk again. “You’re leaving?” A touch of disbelief colored his voice. 

Her eyes widened as she realized the conclusion he’d come to. “Oh no! No, I’ll be retaking my place as the Astronomy Professor. I belatedly realized that Severus had been correct and teaching your passion to students without the same passion was not always the best way forward. It’s quite draining, really. I don’t know how he did it for so many years.”

She glanced at Lucius, who seemed to give her permission to continue with a slight inclination of his head. 

“A passion that I will continue in the form of offering formal internships for rune mastery students. Starting with you, should you accept.” 

Draco stood in stunned silence, his heart thundering in his ears. Being offered a formal internship before June was unusual. Being offered one before April was unheard of. It was only February. 

“I accept.” His voice was strong and steady, a far cry from how he felt. Professor Sinastra’s wide smile told him he’d made the right choice. He returned it, not quite believing his luck. 

Narcissa’s smile was much more contained, but pride sparkled in her blue eyes as she nodded approvingly. 

“Congratulations, Draco.” At his words, he looked up to his father. Lucius’ eyes were last ones he met, and he was surprised to find them soft, a small smile on his lips. 

“And seeing as the Board now knows, we can start making plans. After you have ample time to celebrate, of course.” Professor Sinistra’s smile was still so wide, he wondered if she was excited about this as he was. “So I thank you for coming so quickly,” she added, nodding to Lucius. 

“Wait. You’re not on the…”

“Re-elected earlier this week, I’m afraid.” Lucius’ lips twisted into a wry smile. “When I heard that Aurora was retaking her place, I’d hoped it would be good news for you, and offered to come sooner than later.”

“They’re not going to think—“

“I filed the motion last month. You’re all in the clear.” Professor Sinistra sat back in her chair, obviously pleased with herself. “It was really just a happy coincidence it was presented the week Lucius returned.” 

He was grateful that the former Slytherin understood his anxieties without needing to spell them out. He grinned again, running a hand through his hair. 

“Thank you, Professor. I really…” his throat tightened. “Thank you.” 

“It’s my pleasure. I look forward to working with you on some more interesting pieces than this train wreck.” She waved at the board behind his parents, covered in his and Rose’s notes. 

“Draco, why don’t you go put your things away and change? Your father and I would like to take you to celebrate. I’m sure Minerva won’t have any objections.” Narcissa still hadn’t lost her smile. 

“I’ll arrange it with her. I need to speak to her anyway. Go change, Draco.” Lucius’ tone was an order, one that he didn’t hesitate to follow. 

“You and your husband would be welcome as well, Aurora.” He didn’t hear her response; he was already in the hall, looking for a golden brown braid and dark chocolate ponytail. He found them two doors down, their shock at his excitement bringing him to laugh. 

“Sinistra offered me an official internship for my runes mastery.” It all spilled out before they could ask. His news was met with squeals from both girls. Rose threw herself at him, and he hugged her tightly, laughing. 

“I knew it.” Astoria grinned, and threw herself at him for a hug of her own when Rose retreated. It was the first time she embraced him, and Draco was struck by how different it was from hugging Rose, but Draco pushed it away, just wanting to enjoy his moment of triumph. He didn’t have to worry about his future now. 

Astoria gave a gasp and retreated several steps, her eyes wide. Draco understood when a heartbeat later, Narcissa and Lucius stepped into place beside him. 

Rose looked between the three, an intrigued look in her eye, but didn’t back away as Astoria had. Just as she’d never backed away from Draco. 

Draco cleared his throat. “Father, Mother. Allow me to introduce Miss Astoria Greengrass,” she bowed her head respectfully. “And Miss Grace Rose Hollingsworth.” She bobbed her head shortly, but not before shooting him a reproachful look for using her given name. “Rose and Astoria, my parents. Lord Lucius and Lady Narcissa Malfoy.” They inclined their heads slightly in recognition. 

“It’s nice to meet you both. Draco spoke of you both often over the holiday.” Narcissa smiled tightly, eyeing both girls. Astoria dropped her eyes, but Rose met her unflinching gaze with a sharp smile of her own. 

“It’s nice to meet you as well. I’ve heard a lot about you both.” The implication was heavily implied that all she’d heard wasn’t pleasant, but the American had already proven she didn’t pull punches. 

Lucius’ lip twitched, but he didn’t dignify her with a response. “Come, Narcissa. Minerva will be waiting. Draco, we will see you in the entrance hall.” With one last sweep of his grey eyes, he guided his wife past the two girls. 

Astoria raised her head as they moved past, looking horrified at Rose’s insolence. “Do you know who they are?” She hissed, eyes wide. 

“Oh lay off Tori. They expected worse.” Rose grinned at her. “I am a lowly American half-blood, after all.” 

Draco rolled his eyes at the both. “You’re both ridiculous and I need to go change.” He led the way to the dungeons, and Rose snickered to them, “I get the ice prince thing now though. I think your parents are more royal than Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip. And far more recognizable,” she added as an afterthought, earning an eye roll from Astoria. 

Leaving them in the common room, he slipped into his dorm to find someone, presumably his mother’s new house elf, had laid out a set of dress robes for him to change into. Green so dark it may as well have been black and silver accents, they were fairly understated and Draco appreciated it. Changing quickly, he emerged into the common room to find Astoria and Rose telling Pansy and Blaise of Draco’s mastery. 

He sighed. The two biggest mouths in Slytherin; the whole school would know by breakfast. Which, he supposed, wasn’t a bad thing. 

He squeezed Rose’s hand, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. 

“Well don’t you look nice,” she murmured into his ear. He rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so if it’s after curfew I’ll see you in the morning.”

She smiled sweetly back at him. “We’ll see about that.” With a bruising kiss, she pushed him toward the door to the dungeon corridor. 

In the entry hall he watched the waves of students coming and going from dinner, nodding to several of the older students that he’d gotten to know from the study group. 

Neville, Granger, and the Weasley girl came in through the front doors, rain droplets speckling their hair and cloaks. Neville lifted his chin in greeting, approaching easily while Granger and Weasley hung back, watching him with distrustful eyes. 

“You look important,” he chuckled. “What’s the occasion?” 

“My parents are here. They’re taking me to celebrate the acceptance of my rune mastery internship,” Draco tried and failed not to grin. 

Neville’s face was nearly split in two with his own smile. “It’s only February! That’s bloody amazing! Who’s it with?” 

“Me.” Professor Sinistra smiled as Neville jumped. She’d changed into a deep purple gown, her inky hair twisted up off her neck. She really was quite pretty. Draco shouldn’t have been so surprised to learn she was married. There was a man next to her in dress robes that Draco vaguely recognized; he must be her husband and Draco had just never put two and two together. 

Behind Neville, both Granger and Weasley’s jaws dropped open, and he smirked. That was certainly worth it. The hall grew quiet when the Malfoys appeared at the top of the stairs, only whispers heard as some of the students froze, and others fled. 

Somewhere behind Neville, Draco hear someone whisper, “Arseholes should be in Azkaban.” Before even Sinistra could react, Granger turned, eyes flashing dangerously. 

“Li, Taylor, ten points from Gryffindor.” Her voice was oddly loud after the hush, and all eyes were on her. 

“For  _ what?”  _ The third year boys looked outraged, and Weasley’s eyes were wide at her friend’s outburst. 

“For thinking that you know better than the Wizengamot and blatant disrespect. Out, now, or it’s detention.” The boy that had been silent gave the other a scathing look, but pulled him into the Great Hall. 

Lucius and Narcissa, now at the bottom of the stairs, both gave the Head Girl appraising looks. She turned pink, but stood her ground, arms crossed, unflinching under Lucius’ cool stare or Narcissa’s surprise. Neville chuckled. “You should have seen her lay into the kid that dared to suggest dementors should have come into play.” Draco glanced at Neville, who shrugged. “Just saying. I told you she’s on your side.” 

Draco stood a little straighter, lifting his chin. If he had to accept he’d underestimated any more Gryffindors, he was going to lose his mind. He almost lost it anyway when Lucius graciously inclined his head to the girl, who turned a brighter shade of pink. 

Neville chuckled at Draco’s sneer, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Tell me about it.” Sinistra had been quiet, but a smile played at her lips, glancing at her husband. 

“Well. Shall we?” She gestured to the doors, and Neville rejoined Granger, pulling her into the Great Hall as the five of them left the castle. 


	23. Too Good to be True

It was nearly midnight when Draco and Sinistra returned to the castle, and he bid her goodnight in the entry hall. She’d insisted that he call her Aurora, staying that she really wasn’t his professor any longer, but his colleague. Her husband Eric had talked more at the restaurant and had quickly gotten lost in talk of quidditch with Narcissa and Draco, while Aurora and Lucius had started talking about school business until Narcissa gently reminded them they were supposed to be celebrating, not working. Lucius had acquiesced, and soon they were all laughing over Eric’s jokes stemming from his work as a magical logistics engineer. 

Lucius, Narcissa, and Eric had aparated home from the restaurant, even though Eric had Floo’d to the castle before dinner, while Draco and Aurora had aparated back to Hogsmead. For some reason Draco hadn’t felt the same sadness he had the last time he’d said goodbye to them, but he couldn’t but his finger on why. 

Draco was fairly certain that this was too good to be true, that he’d wake up and it would be back to the uncertainty of what to do after Hogwarts, and if anyone would actually take him on, but on the walk back up to the castle, Aurora had caught on to his quiet apprehension. 

“I swore when I was accepted for my mastery that I was going to show up to learn it was a joke,” she said softly. “Then when I got there, I was certain he was going to throw me out for my lack of knowledge or experience. Walking in to sit for the Board was probably the most terrifying moment of my life.” She laughed. “But you should know you deserve this more than anyone. You’ve worked hard for it. I didn’t ask for you because of your family name or because of what happened last year. Just remember that, okay?” 

He nodded, his throat tight again. He was still thinking about what she’d said when he slipped into his dorms. The other boys were already in bed with the hangings pulled, and he quickly stripped down to his boxers to go to bed. His own hangings were pulled, and it took every bit of self control he possessed to not shout when he opened them to find someone else in his bed. 

“For fucks’ sake Rose you scared the hell out of me!” She smiled up at him, the sheets pulled up to her chin, her eyes mischievous. He climbed in, without waiting; the dungeon floors were chilly and he was mostly naked. “What are you doing here?” 

She whispered a silencing charm, and shuffled closer. “I just wanted to congratulate you properly,” she whispered, even though they were both aware her silencing charms were flawless and could keep shouting matches private. She kissed him softly at first, and then more aggressively.

His breath caught when she slid a hand over his bare chest, then around his waist to pull him closer. He gasped when he reached out and realized as she pressed her body to his that she wasn’t wearing a top. A careful brush down her back told him she wasn’t wearing anything. 

His body reacted near instantaneously, and she giggled against his lips. He was absolutely sure that this day had been too good to be true now. His conclusion came to a head when she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his boxers, and subsequently wiped all thoughts of masteries or runes from his mind. 

Waking the next morning to Rose’s warm body beside him was exceptionally pleasant, at least until Blaise rapped on the bedpost. 

“Draco and company, you’ll be late for breakfast.” 

He groaned. He still had classes. And Blaise was right. He waited for the door to close behind him before nudging the girl gently. 

“Rose, wake up.” The words had the opposite than desired effect, with her sliding a very soft, very warm arm around his middle, a contented sigh leaving her lips. 

“Rosie, we’re going to be late.” He really didn’t want to get up, and the sight of her wearing her diamond necklace with nothing else, coupled with the memories of last night were making it even more difficult. 

“So?” She mumbled into his chest, wrapping an equally soft but even warmer leg around his. 

“So do you really want to explain to Flitwick why we’re late?” 

Her eyes popped open and she sat up, the emerald green sheets slipping down. Draco was reaching out, but was met with a sharp slap on the wrist. 

“We have to go!” She was pulling the hangings aside, peeking out to ensure the room was empty when Draco threw his side open, to her dismay. 

“Relax. Blaise left and Theo’s probably with Pansy.” He was pulling a fresh set of robes out of his chest of drawers, seemingly completely oblivious to his own nakedness. Rose watched appreciatively until he turned around, rolling his eyes. “We have to go.” 

She laughed, and pulled her bag up from the floor, darting past him to the bathroom. 

He was still tying his tie and she was wrangling her hair into a braid when they sat down at the Slytherin table across from Astoria and Neville. 

Astoria smirked knowingly at them, but Neville seemed to be clueless, passing them cups of coffee and asking if they knew when their charms essay was due. Rose was tying her yellow ribbon around her braid and Draco was only two bites into his breakfast when Astoria said she had Ancient Runes on the fifth floor and had to go, kissing Neville on the cheek and hurrying out of the hall. 

Draco choked on his apple. Rose kicked him under the table, and Neville turned a rather satisfying color of pink. 

“When did that happen?” Draco gasped once the apple had cleared his throat. 

“Well last night after dinner we were talking about the effects of—“ Rose cut Neville off. 

“Last night. But they’ve been dancing around it for months. She’s fancied him since before Christmas.” Rose stopped, and pulled a face. “Good hell I’m starting to sound like you guys. ‘Fancies’ him. She likes him.”

Draco smirked at her, and Neville’s jaw hung open. “Since before Christmas?” Neville’s voice came out in a disbelieving squeak. 

“I think fancies is fine. I fancy you, after all.” She groaned, and turned pink when Draco leaned in to whisper “and I fancied that thing with the—“ 

“I’m going to class now!” She jumped up and fled the Great Hall, much to Draco’s amusement. He turned back to the shell-shocked Gryffindor. 

“Better late than never?” He smirked at his incredulous expression. “Come on. We’ll get you slaying… or laying, rather… another snake before Easter, but we have Charms.” 

Draco very narrowly avoided being sprayed by pumpkin juice. Neville was still bright red and sputtering when they slid into their seats, and Draco just smiled innocently when Rose looked over suspiciously. 

***

The next night in the classroom, Pansy and several of the others filed in with bottles in their hands and Weasley Wizard Wheezes fireworks exploding around them. 

“CONGRATULATIONS!” 

Draco shook his head, a grin creeping across his face. Rose slipped an arm around him. 

“It’s apparently an old Ravenclaw tradition to have a hell of a party to celebrate the first mastery acceptance of the year… so we brought everybody in on it.” He squeezed her tighter, until the catcalls started.

“Kiss her Malfoy!” “Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!” 

He shook his head, and then suddenly leaned down and kissed her, hard. The responding cheers were deafening, and Hannah and Damian popped the champagne. 

He pulled back to see Rose grinning from ear to ear, and Alice was pressing a glass into his hand. Someone brought in a gramophone and everyone put their books away, content to enjoy one Friday night without studying. They were a couple drinks in, and Rose was tipsy and giggling in Draco’s lap when the door slammed open. 

Draco was still sober and groaned when he saw who was standing in the door. 

The blonde narrowed her eyes, her jaw set. Draco felt the world move in slow motion; Rose leaning into him, Hope turning and leaving the room before he could stop her. He instinctively knew that nothing good was going to come of her appearance, but he didn’t know how bad it would be.  


***

One week later, they were again in the classroom, though this time they were studying. Somehow they all agreed the beginning of March seemed astronomically closer to May and their exams than the end of February did, and therefore they weren’t willing to waste any more time that wasn’t strictly necessary. 

Draco was paired with Pansy and Damien working on Arithmancy, with Rose, Astoria, Axios, and Neville on Charms when the door swung open yet again. A shorty, balding man with a large gut and small eyes stormed in, with Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall on his heels. 

The balding man’s face was red, and he looked livid. The students in the quiet room shared looks of confusion, as he glowered around the room before his gaze settled on Rose. 

“Get up,” he spat at her, lunging for her arm and dragging her to her feet. Draco could see her cringe, and he was on his feet a moment later, drawing the attention of the unfamiliar man. 

“Let her go!” His wand was in his hand, and belatedly he saw McGonagall’s warning look. 

“ _ Incarcerous _ !”

Thick ropes flew from the end of the short man’s wand tip, wrapping themselves tightly around Draco, trapping his limbs and leaving him unable to move. The panic further immobilized him as he flashed back to the Dark Lord using the same spell on him to make him listen to his mother’s tortured screams and his father’s hoarse cries. 

“MR HOLLINGSWORTH!” McGonagall was slashing with her wand, and Flitwick and Astoria were rushing to his side, even as Neville and Axios were on their feet. Neville deftly disarmed the man as Axios physically put himself between Rose and her father. 

The ropes were falling away even as Draco hit his knees, a strangled cry tearing from his throat. The room erupted into yells and shouts around them. The ones that fought in the battle were in various stages of panic and defensive stances, the ones that hadn’t were diving for cover or frozen in place. 

Mr Hollingsworth had paled considerably now that he was wandless and facing two taller, younger men and an incredibly powerful and now incredibly angry witch, not to mention the dozen or so students that all had their wands drawn. 

Astoria pulled Draco to his feet, holding on to him tightly, her body trembling. Rose had tears dripping down her cheeks, but Draco knew she was furious. McGonagall’s jaw was tight, and her knuckles were white around her wand. 

“Ms Greengrass, please go get Madam Pomfrey. Flilius, will you please stay here with Poppy to decide what the best course of action will be for each student’s needs? Mr Longbottom and Mr Fairview, would you be so kind as to escort Mr Hollingsworth to my office? I will follow with Ms Hollingsworth and Mr Malfoy when they have been seen to by Madam Pomfrey.”

Astoria was still shaking, but she skirted around the American man and out the door, while Flitwick started squeaking directions to some of the nearby students. Neville tucked the older man’s wand in his pocket, and with his wand trailed steadily on the balding man, jerked his head for him to move towards the door. Axios followed, his wand equally steady as he and Neville fell into step flanking the man. 

Once the three were through the door, McGonagall lowered her wand, and turned to Draco. 

“Mr Malfoy, are you alright?” 

Draco nodded jerkily once, not trusting himself to speak. The woman looked him up and down, her sharp eyes taking in his shaking hands and too-pale face, but turned to Rose. 

“And you, Ms Hollingsworth?” Rose was still crying angry tears, but nodded. She moved closer, looking guilty up at Draco until he reached out for her. She rushed into his arms, sobs wracking her body. 

The door swung open, and Aurora Sinistra’s shocked face appeared. She looked around, bewildered at the number of crying students and McGonagall’s drawn expression. 

“What the…” her eyes fell to Rose, cradled in Draco’s arms, and then flicked to Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones, both huddled together on the floor, tears streaming down their faces, before settling back on McGonagall.

“Aurora, will you please go call—“ McGonagall’s question was cut off by Draco. 

“My father.” He raised his chin, his jaw clenched. 

“I was going to suggest Mr Perkins, but Mr Malfoy may indeed be the better choice at the moment.” McGonagall conceded. “But if you wouldn’t mind asking him to floo through your office, I don’t believe he and Mr Hollingsworth should be left to their own devices in mine.” Aurora turned, still wide-eyed and fled from the classroom. 

It was several long, tense minutes of Flitwick and McGonagall moving between the students before the door opened again, and Astoria and Madam Pomfrey came in. Madam Pomfrey was fuming, and Astoria looked as if she’d cried at some point, but was now just as infuriated as Pomfrey and McGonagall. 

Some students were released to return to their common rooms while some others were kept close at hand for Pomfrey to usher up to the hospital wing for doses of Calming and Dreamless Draughts. Astoria was coaxing Hannah Abbott up from the floor to follow the rest of the students being escorted by Pomfrey and Flitwick when Aurora and Lucius stepped in. 

Hannah paled even further, and Astoria wrapped a comforting arm around her before rushing her through the door, sparing a worried look at Draco and Rose. Rose was now in her armchair, her face propped up in her hands, and Draco stood to her left, his arms crossed and his jaw set, even as he sneered at the floor. McGonagall stood apart, her hands clasped around her wand in front of her. 

Lucius’ grey eyes flicked between the room’s final three occupants, and McGonagall stepped forward. 

“Lucius, thank you for coming on such short notice.” She straightened her shoulders. “We’ve had an incident regarding a parent that I will require the approval of the Board of Directors to handle.”

Lucius’ eyes flicked back to the girl slumped in the chair, and then to his son’s anxious stance. 

“Would I be correct in assuming that the parent in question belongs to Ms Hollingsworth?” Draco nodded, and McGonagall cleared her throat. 

“Mr Hollingsworth came into my office, irate, demanding to see Ms Hollingsworth. When I suggested that I would have her located and brought to my office, he accused me of harboring…” she paused, obviously conflicted. 

“It’s fine, Minerva. What did he say?” Lucius’ shoulders tensed, but he didn’t appear angry. 

“He accused me of harboring Death Eater scum that was corrupting his daughter.” Her nostrils flared, but she continued. “When I assured him that all current students had been cleared and pardoned, he left my office and came here. Though I’m not entirely sure how he found them.”

“Little Miss Sunshine,” Draco spat darkly. At his father’s piercing glance, he said more clearly, “His younger daughter, Hope. Fifth year Hufflepuff.” McGonagall nodded. 

“That would make sense… Unfortunately Filius and I didn’t take more drastic measures in time. As I understand it, this has become the unofficial NEWT study hall, and as it stands, the wide majority of students studying now also fought in the battle. When he manhandled Ms Hollingsworth here, and your son objected…” she trailed off, looking to Draco. 

“He used  _ incarcerous  _ on me,” he spat out bitterly, his stomach twisting in anxiety and shame. 

Lucius’ eyes hardened as he understood the implications, and his icy anger flooded the room; even Aurora and McGonagall recoiled. 

“Mr Longbottom disarmed him, and with the assistance of Mr Fairview escorted him to my office to await our arrival,” McGonagall finished, her hands blanching around her wand again. 

“Thank you for summoning me, Minerva, Aurora. May I please have a word alone with my son?” 

“Filius’ classroom is next door,” Aurora volunteered. Draco looked to the witch at his side, who still hadn’t looked up or said a word. 

“She’ll be okay with us,” Aurora added gently, and Draco straightened, striding into the corridor and into the Charms classroom. Lucius was right on his heels, and when the door shut solidly, he was whispering silencing spells. 

“Draco, are you alright?” Draco had once again been caught off guard by his father, and he struggled to keep his composure. He crumbled when his father laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, the anger erupting. 

“He knew. He was at the trials. He  _ knew _ that’s what the Dark Lord used on us. And he did it to make me look weak,” Draco spat, his hands shaking. “He’s been telling Rose since September that we belong in Azkaban, that we were going to slip up and then she’d see how he’d been right and we’d both be executed for our part.”

Draco spun to face his father. “While he gets away with abusing his Muggle wife, and his daughters that couldn’t defend themselves. But Rose is of age now. He hasn’t said a word since she turned seventeen, and we thought it was over. I knew it was too good to be true.”

Comprehension dawned on Lucius’ face, and Draco saw his father formulating a response. 

“Draco, listen very carefully. This needs to be handled very delicately.”


	24. Any Further Business

It didn’t appear that Rose had moved a muscle in the several minutes that Draco and Lucius had been out of the room. Aurora and McGonagall flanked her chair, the two sporting severe expressions. 

“I believe this should best be continued in your office, Minerva,” Lucius suggested smoothly, gesturing at the door. She led the way, but when Rose didn’t move, Aurora laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“Rose, are you alright?” She finally looked up; her eyes were red but dry, and she stood without a word. 

She followed McGonagall past Draco and Lucius without a glance at either. Draco and Lucius fell in behind her, with Aurora pulling up the rear. Several students stopped in their tracks at the sight of the group, all of whom were sporting expressions of varying degrees of displeasure. Draco caught sight of the Slytherin chaser Marta Becker watching them with wide eyes as they passed by her and one of the Hufflepuff beaters, who’d obviously just stumbled out of a hidden alcove. 

In McGonagall’s office, Mr Hollingsworth was ranting at Axios and Neville, who were both doing fairly good impressions of The Queen’s Guards; not reacting to his ravings, despite his unsightly, bulbous nose getting dangerously close to their faces. 

“Mr Hollingsworth, I insist that you refrain from verbally assaulting my students.” McGonagall strode in, and as he followed his father in, Draco was happy to see the portrait of Severus back behind her desk. 

Even better was the sickly pallor that Mr Hollingsworth’s face took on when he recognized the man that filed in after his daughter. Lucius towered over both Americans, and with his black robes and fair hair, looked like some kind of avenging angel. Draco had to fight to keep his face impassive, though Axios smirked, and Neville stiffened slightly. 

“I demand to have my wand returned to me!” He turned on McGonagall, and Draco had the fleeting thought that if he made one wrong move, the brash man would end up a smudge on her carpet. 

“Sit. Down. Mr Hollingsworth.” McGonagall’s temper was on a short fuse, and the heavyset little man seemed to know it, because he sank into one of the high backed chairs before her desk. 

“Mr Longbottom and Mr Fairview, thank you for assisting. I believe you will both find who you’re looking for in the hospital wing.” 

Neville and Axios nodded, and moved towards the door. Axios regained his easy grin and was whistling before he reached the door. Neville only paused briefly to hand the man’s wand over to Lucius. Axios aimed a cheeky wink at Severus’ portrait, earning him an exaggerated eye roll and Neville glanced at Rose worriedly before the door shut behind them.

Aurora took her place just behind McGonagall’s right shoulder, looking calmly over the four across the desk. 

“Rose, have a seat please.” She looked at the chair next to her father and paled slightly, but dutifully moved towards it. Draco wasn’t sure who commanded the magic, but the chairs shot apart, jerking Mr Hollingsworth and providing ample space between the chairs. Draco stood behind her and to the left, while Lucius took up the space over her other shoulder, his wand very clearly visible to the other man from his chair. 

Draco felt a surge of satisfaction when the American man’s face went red, obviously biting back curses as he was still wandless. Draco was now the same height as his father, though his father was significantly more broad than he was across the chest and shoulders. Nevertheless, the two of them were striking together, and the way Lucius had intentionally placed himself had a muscle twitching in Mr Hollingsworth’s jaw. 

“Now. Would you care to share what possessed you to barge through my school and attack my students?” McGonagall folded her hands neatly across her desk, staring down her nose at the man. 

“I didn’t  _ attack _ anyone!” He regained some of his color, and his impertinence. “I have every right to—“

“You  _ did  _ attack him, and we all saw it!” Rose gripped the armrests of the chair, her knuckles white against the old wood. 

“Because he—“

“Because he was defending me, and you didn’t like it!” Rose’s voice grew louder. 

“Miss Hollingsworth, please.” McGonagall admonished her lightly. Rose clasped her hands in her lap and bit her lip. Mr Hollingsworth took his chance to insert himself again. 

“I have every right to see my daughters whenever I like!” Mr Hollingsworth’s face was quite an ugly shade of puce by this point, and he glared at McGonagall. “At Ilvermorny they  _ never  _ would have—“

“But we are not at Ilvermorny, Mr Hollingsworth. We are at Hogwarts, and we do not tolerate parents coming in to intimidate other students. This is a school, not a criminal institution.” 

“You didn’t seem to mind letting your students treat me like a criminal,” he grumbled. 

“Mr Longbottom and Mr Fairview are war heros and allowing them to escort you out was as much for your safety as it was for that of my students, many of whom are survivors of the battle that raged here not a year ago. Had I truly believed you deserved to be treated as a criminal, you would be unconscious and bound waiting for the Aurors.” Her eyes flashed dangerously as she paused to regain control. 

“Rest assured, Mr Hollingsworth, you were treated with far more respect than I believe you deserve.” McGonagall was colder than Draco had ever seen her, and he felt a tendril of fear curl up his spine. 

“Excuse me!” Mr Hollingsworth looked outraged. “It’s him,” he jabbed a fat finger in Lucius’ direction, “that should be treated like sh—“ 

“Lord Malfoy is here as an  _ elected  _ representative of the school’s Board of Governors, and as you have brought up the fact that you were present at the trials many times, you know very well that both he and his son were pardoned. In that light, I think you should choose your next words carefully.” Aurora interrupted sharply. 

He scoffed, and sneered at Draco. “I want him kept away from my daughter. She doesn’t need that filthy—“ 

“Don’t you dare!” Rose shrieked, jumping to her feet, wand drawn. “Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Her voice shook along with her wand as her voice dropped. “You can hit mom and treat her like dirt, and scare Hope into doing whatever you want, but I’m done. I won’t let you push me around anymore, and you better leave Draco out of it.” 

“I am your—“ 

“No. You’re not. You’re not a dad. Maybe a father in a technicality. Definitely not a parent. You’re a tyrant and a bully who thinks that because you have magic you’re better than Mom.”

“You can’t stay here if I don’t—“

“Rose will have a place at this school regardless of your support,” McGonagall said sharply. 

“And after that? You can’t hide here forever.” He looked smug. 

“She is already being sought after for mastery programs both here and in the United States. I find it hard to fathom that she’ll be left with nowhere to go.” Aurora smiled sweetly at his sputtering. 

Lucius hadn’t said a word, but Draco knew he was biding his time for something. He always had the last word when something truly mattered. Rose sat back down, her wand still in hand. 

“As it stands, I don’t believe you have any further business here, Mr Hollingsworth.” McGonagall’s finality might as well have been a judge’s gavel dropping. He stood, and held out his hand, palm up. 

“My wand.” He glowered at Lucius, who smirked. 

“Unfortunately, you may be done here, but you will need to accompany me to the Ministry. Minerva and Rose as well, if they’re both agreeable.” 

Draco looked sharply at his father. This hadn’t been mentioned. Severus, however, was watching with a smug smirk of his own, so he stayed quiet. 

“As long as the Board is agreeable to Aurora acting as interim Deputy Headmistress, I have no objections.” McGonagall stood, stepping out from behind her desk. She moved towards the fireplace, gesturing for Rose to join her. Rose stood slowly, fear finally touching her eyes. Draco had barely shifted his weight when his father stopped him with the slightest shake of his head. 

“As it so happens, I believe the Board would wish to instate Aurora as permanent Deputy.” Lucius looked to Aurora who inclined her head, while Rose looked up to Draco, pleading with him. 

Draco nodded to Rose, his impassive expression enough to tell her to go. Her father followed, looking positively murderous again. One by one they stepped through the floo, each calling out “Ministry of Magic,” and disappearing in a roar of emerald green flames. Lucius was the last, stopping before departing. 

“I think it would be wise for both of you to be here when we return.” Aurora and Draco nodded solemnly, and he was gone in a swish of black and green. 

Aurora sat wearily in McGonagall’s chair, but Draco stood frozen in his chair, replaying what had happened that evening.

“Congratulations, Aurora. I believe I warned you of the dangers of cavorting with certain members of the Board.” Severus’ smug expression was still in place, and Aurora glared up at him. 

“I wouldn’t be in this position if Filius had just taken the damn job. Or if you hadn’t gone and gotten yourself killed, you bastard.” Severus just gave her a careless shrug, and Draco shook his head. This is not what he’d planned for his Friday night. 

A knock on the door had his neck snapping to look, and Aurora sat up straighter, turning her back firmly to the portrait. 

“Enter.” 

Draco’s temper flared at the sight of Hope Hollingsworth, but a heartbeat later his stomach sank. Her eyes were red and puffy, and for the first time he saw the resemblance between her and her older sister. 

“I swear I didn’t know!” She looked terrified, and presently burst into tears again. “I didn’t know he would hurt anyone here.” 

Aurora sighed. 

“Draco will you please go to the hospital wing and retrieve a Calming Draught? I fear they will be at the Ministry for some time, but it would be best for me to remain.”

He nodded, but paused several feet from the Hufflepuff girl still crying in the door, unwilling to cause her any more undue stress. She stared at him with wide eyes, but seemed to understand, and shuffled further into the room towards Aurora. 

Draco hurried to the hospital wing, three floors up. Astoria flew towards him as he came into the ward, locking her arms around his neck. 

“Are you okay? Where’s Rose? Why did he do that? What did McGonagall say? Was your father angry? That’s a stupid question of course he was angry. But why was he here?” 

“Tori, let the man breathe.” Neville pulled her back, and Draco was again thankful to the Gryffindor. 

“I’m fine. Rose is fine. She’s at the Ministry with Father and McGonagall. But I can’t stay. Aurora was appointed deputy and she sent me for a couple calming draughts for Rose and Hope.” 

Astoria nodded, and turned on her heel to retrieve the vials, her nature as a healer overtaking her anxiety once more. Neville shoved his hands in his pockets, and glanced at Draco. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? That was a low blow and I wish I’d done more than just disarm him.” Draco’s stomach twisted. Neville had been at the trials too. He knew. 

“I’m fine. I’m just worried about Rose.” 

“You said she’s with McGonagall?”

“And my father.” Neville went a shade more pale. “He’ll keep her safe. He wouldn’t dare let anything happen to her now. Apparently he’s trying to pass new muggleborn protection laws, too.”

Neville’s shock would have been comical any other time, but Draco just wanted to get back to the office for Rose’s return. 

“Tell me about it. Where’s Astoria? I have to go.” Draco shifted impatiently, and he tried to ignore Neville’s concerned look. 

“Maybe you should be looked over by Pomfrey, mate.” 

“I’m fine.” Neville didn’t look convinced, but let the matter go. Astoria reappeared, two vials of blue potion in hand. She pressed them into his hand and his throat got tight. 

“Thanks, Tori.” She nodded, and for a moment looked as if she was going to say something, but instead she bit her lip and crossed her arms. Neville was putting an arm around her shoulders when Draco turned and left the wing. 

He made it down the first two flights of stairs before he slowed to a stop, the two bottles in his fist cutting his hand. He closed his eyes, taking a series of deep breaths. Now the adrenaline had dissipated, he was feeling shaky and cold. 

“Draco?” He jumped, spinning, his wand drawn. Big blue eyes met his, and he let out a shaking breath. “I’m sorry. Madam Pomfrey wanted me to update Professor Sinistra…” Astoria edged closer, and Draco tucked his wand away. 

“Come on then.” Draco turned back around, hoping she hadn’t noticed how bad he was shaking. 

“Draco, wait!” She stepped in front of him, her hands up. “Don’t tell me you’re okay. You look awful and you’re about to snap.”

“Considering what just happened, I am okay.” Draco tried to move past her, but she didn’t let him. 

“Draco please.” Her eyes were pleading now, and she pulled another vial from her pocket. “You don’t have to take it now, but at least hold onto it if you decide you need it.” She slipped it into his pocket, and threw her arms back around him. 

He was always taken aback when the pure-blood girl showed the casual affection that was frowned upon in their circles, but he this time he was grateful for her lack of restraint. Astoria was taller and more slender than Rose was, her curves less pronounced. She was soft in a different way, in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant. Her face was buried in his shoulder, not the center of his chest, and for a moment he let himself get lost in the feeling that she was supporting him. 

His shaking calmed, but when he sniffed, he pulled away. 

“You witches and your bloody hair.” He pulled a long dark hair from his mouth, and she laughed, sniffing herself and wiping her eyes. 

“Sorry.” She gave him a weak smile. “We should go. Sinistra will be waiting.” 

“Yeah…” Draco cleared his throat. 

“Rose is lucky to have you,” Astoria volunteered as they drew closer to the griffin guarding the door. 

“Because every witch wants to be dating an ex-Death Eater whom their father hates and whose own father, by your own admission, only has to show his face to send the second years into tears. A real winner, for sure.” The guilt twisted in his gut like a knife. 

“You’ve defended her over and over, with no thought to how it will affect you… you gave her a massive diamond— oh yeah. I know about it.” She smirked at his surprise. “You actually care about her, and it shows. She doesn’t care about her parents or yours. Hell, she sassed  _ Narcissa Malfoy  _ and stared  _ Lucius Malfoy  _ down and I could barely look them in the face, and I grew up around them, with you. 

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, but the witch has balls. But I know she wouldn’t do it without you.” 

They were quiet as they ascended the stairs, and Draco quickly set the two vials of Calming Draught on the desk before Aurora and retreated to the back of the room as she and Astoria discussed the extent of how the various students had been affected. 

Hope sat with her back to Draco, but he could see her shoulders shaking as she cried, intensifying the longer she listened. 

“Aurora. I think Hope should have that Calming Draught now.” He leaned back against the bookshelves, and Astoria glanced at him before zeroing in on the girl behind her. Astoria took one of the vials, and handed it to the girl, who took it, but just stared at it, shaking her head slowly. 

Astoria knelt beside her, whispering quietly. Aurora and Draco exchanged looks, and both stayed quiet until Astoria settled the Hufflepuff into an armchair by the fire and swallowed the potion. Aurora summoned a blanket from somewhere, and Astoria tucked it around her. It wasn’t long before she was calm, staring into the fire. 

Draco straightened, and she didn’t look up, so he approached the wide desk, taking the seat that Rose had sat in earlier. Astoria took the other, and the three Slytherins sat in stoic silence until the fireplace roared green, and Rose stepped back through. She was crying again, and her distress was only exacerbated when she saw Hope bundled in front of the fire. 

McGonagall was next, followed swiftly by Lucius. Hope’s eyes grew wide, but she stayed still, the potion keeping any panic at bay. Rose looked helplessly between Hope, Astoria, and Draco. Astoria hurried to her side, but Draco stayed put, his father’s eyes boring into him. 

“Ms Greengrass, do you think you could assist Ms Hollingsworth to the hospital wing?” Astoria’s eyes widened at being addressed by Lucius, but she looked between the two girls. Lucius indicated Hope with pointed look of his silver eyes, and Astoria nodded. 

McGonagall was whispering to Aurora, and Draco wasn’t sure what to do with himself until Rose hit her knees. Astoria was holding a swaying Hope upright and she looked to him, but he was already crossing the space. He was on his knees next to her, his arms firmly around her before her palms hit the rug, and she collapsed into him, her silent sobs shaking her body. 

Draco caught his father’s raised eyebrow, but he focused on Rose. She clawed at his arm, and she gasped for breath through her tears. Draco jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder. His father offered the vial of potion from the desk, and he took it gratefully. 

“Rosie, it’s okay. Take this.” She shook her head, and he shifted it between his hands so he could stroke her hair. “You don’t even have to take it all. Just a little. It’ll help. I won’t leave you, I promise.” He kept whispering in her ear until she took the bottle and took a tiny sip. When the bottle was half empty she stopped, and leaned back into Draco. 

“What have I done?” Her broken whisper seemed to echo through the quiet office. 

“You’ve helped to protect yourself, your sister, and your mother.” Lucius’ low voice was much closer and much more kind than Draco could have anticipated, and he looked back to see Lucius perched on the edge of the chair closest to them. 

Lucius didn’t perch. He enthroned himself, he lounged or luxuriated, but he didn’t perch on the edge of a seat. But he was, and a flash of understanding made his stomach knot and the room spin. 

Draco was huddled over Rose, shielding her body from the room just as Lucius had shielded Narcissa the night Potter escaped. 

“Rose, come on. We’re going to stand up, okay?” Draco shifted, urging her up along with him. She was standing on her own two feet, and he maneuvered her carefully into the chair that Lucius vacated, 

She was breathing easier, but her hand was crushing Draco’s. A blanket was passed between them, and he tucked it securely around her, not once letting go. When she was settled, Draco turned back to the three people sitting around the desk. 

“What happened?” The question was directed at Lucius, but it was McGonagall that answered. 

“I think this would be best explained tomorrow, with both the Ms Hollingsworths present along with Mrs Hollingsworth.” 

Draco was still staring at his father, but he returned the stare, his steel gaze steady. “Minerva is right. Take Ms Hollingsworth to the hospital wing, remain there for the night. We will speak in the morning, Draco.” 

“But—“

“But nothing, boy. You will do as you’re told,” Lucius snapped, his hand tightening over the head of his walking stick. 

“Fine.” Draco pulled on Rose’s hand. “Come on, Rosie.”


	25. Nightmares

Draco managed to get them both to the hospital wing, and was again met by an anxious Astoria. 

“Tori, we’re fine. Just exhausted.” Rose was still clutching the half-empty vial of blue potion, and she didn’t object when Madam Pomfrey pulled her to a empty bed. Draco stayed glued to the floor, looking around the now mostly-full ward. 

“Most of us are staying here for the night… Poppy’s worried about nightmares.” 

Draco scoffed. “Not exactly new territory, is it?” She let out a strangled noise from the back of her throat, looking dismayed. Draco looked away, shame welling in his chest once again. 

“Why didn’t you tell us? We have—“

“I’m not going to spend the rest of my life tethered and dictated by potions,” he spat, his eyes prickling. 

“That’s not what she’s saying, mate.” Neville’s quiet admonishment from behind him made his blood boil. 

“You don’t—“ he turned on him, to meet his hazel green eyes burning with an anger he didn’t know the Gryffindor possessed. 

“I don’t what?” He challenged. “I don’t know what it’s like? To wake up every night in a cold sweat remembering what they did, what we lived through? To be afraid to close my eyes at night because that’s when I hear their screams the loudest? Or I don’t know what it’s like knowing my parents were tortured until their minds shattered? Oh wait…  _ You _ don’t know what that feels like, do you?”

He stalked past him, disappearing behind a curtained off section. Astoria’s dismay had melted into misery as she looked between her friend and her boyfriend. 

“Just go.” Draco felt so drained and tired, he couldn’t even feel angry. He was just… Sad. It bubbled up so abruptly that when Madam Pomfrey touched his arm to direct him to an empty bed, he went quickly, hoping that nobody saw the tears that dropped onto the stone floor. He changed into hospital pajamas and got into the bed, his chest aching not just for himself and for Rose, but for Neville, and his mother and father, for the dozen and a half other students laying with him in this room that were battling demons of their own. He cried silent tears until the allure of a quiet, dreamless sleep was too much, and he took the cloudy burgundy potion left on the tray labeled “Dreamless.” 

At some point in the night, he became aware of someone next to him crying out. The terror in the gasps was unmistakable, and Draco teetered on the edge until a hoarse “No!” drove him to flick open the curtains. 

He didn’t know how he’d missed being directed to the bed next to Neville’s, but the face now twisted into a grimace in the silvery moonlight was unmistakable. 

“Neville, wake up,” Draco hissed. But the man was lost to his subconscious fears, and Draco’s heart lurched. He’d come to really like the Gryffindor over the last three months, and he knew his earlier anger wasn’t misplaced. So he threw back the covers and approached carefully. 

Another fearful gasp and he twisted in the bed, his body’s visceral reaction to the unseen terrors that haunted his mind every bit as real as the days and nights that caused them. Draco reached out with a shaking hand until it landed on the other man’s shoulder. 

“Nev, wake up.” A gentle shake, and then a more insistent one. “Nev, wake up. It’s just a dream.” 

Neville swung blindly, catching Draco across the shoulder and knocking him into the table, a pitcher of water shattering against the stone wall. Draco staggered back in time for Neville to open his eyes, his wand in his fist. 

The curtain on the other side was ripped open, revealing a mop of curly black hair with his wand held aloft. Axios’ black eyes took in the broken pitcher and Draco holding his arm, Neville trembling and white as a sheet. Axios lowered his wand when Neville did, and Draco took the opportunity to experimentally rotate his shoulder. 

“What the hell just happened,” Axios sounded as tired as Draco felt and Neville looked. 

“Nightmares,” Draco said simply. When he turned to set his wand down, Draco glimpsed past him, and realized that the next curtain down was open too. The bed contained a witch with auburn hair, rolled up into a tight little ball under the hospital sheets. He wondered if Axios had slept at all, or if he’d been watching over Viv. 

“You okay, mate?” He turned back and Draco was surprised to see he was addressing him, not Neville. 

“Nev’s got a hell of a backhand, but yeah. I’m good. Nev?” Draco turned his attention to the Gryffindor, who nodded, running a hand over his face. 

“Sorry, Draco.” 

“Don’t be. You’ve probably wanted to do that for years,” Draco sat back on the edge of his bed and dropped his face into his hands. 

“Well… yeah. But I’d rather have done it awake.” Draco looked up in time to see his wry smile, some of the color returning to his face. Axios snorted and pulled the curtain closed behind him, sitting on the end of Neville’s bed. 

“When was the last time either of you got a decent night’s rest?” Draco’s question was met with silence, and he sighed. The two men opposite him were the last two he’d have expected to understand. Neville was always so bloody cheerful and Axios was so easy going, if not a bit of a smartass. 

“It’s a fucked up world we live in,” Neville said quietly. 

“The world may be fucked up, but we got solidly fucked over,” Axios added morosely. 

“Do you think it will ever get better?” Neville seemed to fear the answer, but asked anyway. Draco had always wondered how he’d been put in Gryffindor, but he was beginning to see how the man always met his fears head on. He never shied away from them. 

“I hope so.” Axios’ fathomless eyes could have bore a hole through the curtain between them and his witch. 

They sat like that for a long while, the unlikely trio lost in thoughts of the past and a hope for a better world. It wasn’t until Neville’s watch showed after three that Axios got up, slipping through the curtain partition. Draco laid back in bed, and neither he nor Neville moved to close the partition. 

“I’m sorry.” Draco whispered into the darkness above his bed. “I’m sorry for what my family did to yours. I hated her, and I’m glad she’s gone. But it doesn’t change what she did.” 

“I’m sorry too.” Neville sounded regretful. “But it’s not on your head. You didn’t choose to be born into it any more than Harry and I decided to be involved in that bloody prophecy.” 

“You’re a better man than I am. I don’t know that I would have forgiven me. I was a right git to you for years.”

Neville huffed. “You were. But you’re not so bad now, and I’m done with hanging onto the past… for the most part.” 

“For the most part?” 

“Snape can fuck right off to hell.” 

Draco chuckled. “I admired the man and I can’t even disagree with you there.” 

They fell silent, and Draco’s last thought before sleep overtook him was that Neville was the most courageous Gryffindor since Godric himself. 


	26. Before the Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Board of Governors assembles to discuss the events of the previous night.

Aurora collected Draco, Rose, Hope, and to their surprise and confusion, Neville and Axios the next morning from the hospital wing. 

Rose and Hope followed Aurora arm in arm, with the three boys marching shoulder to shoulder down the wide, empty corridors. The had to climb the spiral staircase in single file, but within the office they stepped back into their informal formation. Aurora took her place beside McGonagall behind the massive desk, with a thin, nervous-looking woman in a plain brown dress sitting to one side, and five other people standing in a similar formation to the student’s on the other side. 

Draco quickly recognized the five as the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Lucius stood in the middle, with an elderly wizard he knew to be Gladwin Perkins to his left, and a man with light brown hair and an easy smile to his right. Of the two women that stood in front of the three men, he recognized one as an associate of his father’s and the other by her large red handbag and ugly taxonomied hat. 

He snorted and nudged Neville, jerking his chin to the portrait of Severus who was staring down at Augusta Longbottom in open contempt. Neville and Axios both snickered, earning them hard stares from the portrait, though the others seemed not to notice. 

“Now that we’re all assembled,” McGonagall cleared her throat. “Mrs Linda Hollingsworth, please meet our Hogwarts School Board of Governors, Lady Augusta Longbottom,” she nodded, the moth eaten bird on her hat trembling slightly, “Ms Rosalie Collins,” the middle-aged woman bobbed her head sharply, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “Mr Gladwin Perkins,” the elderly wizard bowed, “Mr Anthony Fairview,” the man smiled even more broadly and Draco realized this had to be Axios’ father. He could see it now he looked, in his smile and around his eyes. “And Lord Lucius Malfoy.” His father inclined his head slightly, and Draco saw his lip twitch, but his stoic mask was otherwise firmly in place. 

The Muggle woman showed a flicker of recognition at Lucius’ name, but like her daughters didn’t show any fear. 

McGonagall turned to the students assembled directly across from her. “Our students involved, Ms Rose Hollingsworth, Ms Hope Hollingsworth, Mr Neville Longbottom, Mr Axios Fairview, and Mr Draco Malfoy.” They each nodded in turn, and Draco watched as the lone woman connected each of the three boys to their respective counterparts within the knot of Board members, then stared hard at Draco. 

Aurora stood a little straighter, smoothing down her jade green robes before speaking. She quickly and precisely recounted the previous night’s events, her voice even and calm, until she reached the point where Lucius took Minerva and Rose to the Ministry. There she stopped, and Lucius took over. 

Linda Hollingsworth had closed her eyes, pressing her lips into a thin line around the time Aurora had recounted Rose’s admission of abuse, but had stayed quiet and still. From where he was standing he could see Rose and Hope’s resemblance to their mother, though Hope more so than Rose. 

“Unfortunately my duty requires me to report such allegations to the Ministry of Magic, and whereas yourself and your husband are not citizens of Great Britain, to the International Law Office,” Lucius was saying, much more gently than Draco would have expected. Axios’ father had lost his smile, and Ms Collins looked sick. 

“Due to the corroborated allegations and the attack on students here at Hogwarts, he is being held indefinitely, awaiting trial and extradition to the United States. Unfortunately here in Great Britain our laws are… behind the times, so to speak. The Americans take allegations, particularly corroborated allegations, of this nature quite seriously.” Draco could see Rose tremble, and Hope sucked in a breath, clinging to her older sister. Draco resisted their urge to reach out to the brunette, and was relieved when Neville brought a hand up to her shoulder, Axios doing the same for the Hufflepuff on his other side. 

“I have been assured by a member of the International Confederation of Wizards, that is to say, our version of the United Nations,” Lucius went on. “That as you are here because of your husband’s assignment, that you will be free to remain to allow your children to complete their school term and then relocated to your home country at their expense. They will reach out to you further to coordinate and give you resources to assist in the transition.” 

Tears trickled down her face, and Draco could see her hands shaking in her lap. 

“Furthermore,” Mr Perkins spoke up in a wobbly voice, “The Board of Governors would like to issue formal apologies to all students involved, as well as awards of bravery to Mr Neville Longbottom, Mr Axios Fairview, and Mr Draco Malfoy for their actions in protecting a fellow student while on the school grounds. We are sincerely apologetic that such lengths were necessary, but we are grateful to students such as yourselves for your selflessness.” 

Draco stood in stunned silence. Selflessness? Bravery? He wasn’t a bloody Gryffindor. His shock was mitigated by the now-audible cries from Mrs Hollingsworth. 

“Mom…” Rose’s voice broke, and her mother finally opened her eyes. She stood without a word, opening her arms to the two girls, who flew across the space between them. 

“I’m so sorry!” All three women seemed to be apologizing to each other, and Neville shifted beside him. 

“I never thought I’d see the day Lucius Malfoy stuck his neck out for a Muggle,” Axios muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the two boys to hear. “Relocation isn’t SOP, according to dad.” 

Draco tried to swallow the knot in his throat, trying to decide if Lucius had really done it for the woman holding her daughters, or if he’d done it because he’d known how much Rose’s safety meant to his son. He settled on believing that he’d done it to gain some clout for his new initiatives and to gain public favor. 

The tension in the room shifted, and Augusta Longbottom was the first one to totter out of formation, approaching Neville. Anthony Fairview likewise moved towards his son. Mr Perkins and Ms Collins turned to Aurora and McGonagall, and Lucius stood, regal as ever, watching the room come to life once more. 

“...just like your father,” the elderly Mrs Longbottom was saying to Neville, and Anthony was pulling Axios into a hug. Draco edged away, and was hit square in the chest by a petite witch with a long brown braid. 

“Thank you.” With her arms around his neck, her was all but forced to lean down into her. He did so gladly, the feeling of her in his arms comforting. “Mom wants to talk to you, if that’s okay,” she whispered. He just nodded, and she interlocked their fingers, pulling him towards the woman. 

He was taken aback when the woman threw her arms around him. He saw the look on his father’s eye shift rapidly from surprise, to disgust, to amusement before settling back to a cool veneer of disinterest. He doubted anyone else would have seen it, but he was amazed that it hadn’t started and ended with disgust and open contempt. 

He awkwardly patted the woman’s back until she let go. She pulled back to wrap her arms around her daughters again, and he could clearly see that all three of them had the same warm brown eyes. Hope’s still held a measure of distrust, she didn’t shy away from him. 

“You and your dad have been so kind,” Mrs Hollingsworth said softly. Draco wasn’t sure how to respond to that. 

“Father was doing his duty. And I…” he cleared his throat. “I care for Rose. Very much.” 

Hope snorted, and Draco glanced at her. “Even despite your best efforts, Little Miss Sunshine.” She went pink, and crossed her arms. Rose took his hand and squeezed it. 

“I trust you’re both feeling better this morning,” Lucius’ low voice from behind them made the three women jump, and Draco smirked. “If I may have a word, Mrs Hollingsworth…” he gestured to an empty corner of the room with his walking stick, and she moved away with him, looking star-struck. 

Rose and her sister shared a glance, but Draco shook his head, turning to face the portrait of her former Head of House. 

“How did you know?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sneered down at them. 

Rose narrowed her eyes at the imposing man. “I thought you’d sound… sexier.” Draco turned to her incredulously, absolutely dumbstruck by her blunt address. Hope dissolved into giggles, doubling over. “Oh come on. All the girls talk about his voice like he sounds like the next best thing to a god.” Rose rolled her eyes. “I knew they were exaggerating.” 

She turned her back to the portrait, even as the surrounding portraits started to chuckle. Dumbledore’s the most heartily of all. Draco just blinked at Severus’ unamused expression.

“Draco!” Axios waved him over, and he left his witch with the still-giggling Hufflepuff. “Dad this is Draco.”

“I’d know Lucius and Narcissa’s son anywhere. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things.” He held out his hand, and it was all Draco could do to shake it without his jaw hanging open. Good things? 

“It’s nice to meet you as well, sir.” He was saved when Lucius swooped in beside him, a smirk firmly in place. 

“I hear you’re still moaning over our chess matches, Anthony.” Draco and Axios shared a glance, and Anthony grinned. 

“It’s been a few years Lucius. Are you ready for a rematch?”

“By all means. Are you free tomorrow evening? Narcissa and I would love to have you and Cassia for dinner.” 

Draco blinked at the seemingly easy friendship between the two, and Axios grinned. “Speaking of, Draco. I think we’re due for a match ourselves. Maybe we can rope Nev in to play too.” 

“What are we playing?” Neville stepped in between Axios and Draco, drawing the circle outwards. 

“Chess. Fairview needs someone to beat to gain some confidence before he plays me again,” Draco grinned, and when Rose slipped under his arm, he didn’t think twice about the kiss he pressed to her head until he saw his father’s expression. Oops. 

“Well, Anthony. I’ll send you an owl, but I think we should take our leave. We’ve monopolized enough of Minerva’s time already.” Lucius moved smoothly away from his son without a word. The other Board members followed Lucius’ lead, and one by one stepped through the floo. The students were dismissed, and with the exception of Hope, they all headed to Ravenclaw tower. 


	27. This Is It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The term comes to an end...

June, 1999

After Mr Hollingsworth’s removal from their lives, Rose and Hope grew closer, and more often than not, Hope and her friends joined them in their classroom to study for their OWLs. 

There was a shift within Draco and Rose’s relationship as well. Rose was more relaxed, and less guarded. She wore her diamond on display, instead of hidden beneath her robes, next to the nearly constant yellow ribbon. 

It was easy to get lost in the days of studying and the weekends full of chess and friends, where they usually found themselves with Neville and Astoria, sometimes joined by Alice and Damien, Hannah or Axios, or Pansy and Theo.

But before they knew it, exams were upon them, and before each one, he’d squeeze her hand three times and they’d walk in together. After their last practical exam, they’d left hand in hand, Rose muttering that she’d was never going to brew another condensing potion again and Draco feeling as if his head had been in a vice for the last several hours. They had four days until they walked away from lives as Hogwarts students forever. 

They joined Alice, Damian, Neville and Astoria on the shore of the black lake. They were sprawled on the grass, And Neville sat up, grinning and waving a sheet of paper at them. 

“I got accepted to the Auror program!” 

“Congratulations, that’s amazing!” Rose gave him a quick hug before landing in a heap next to Astoria and Alice. Draco clapped him on the shoulder, genuinely happy for his friend. 

“What about you Rose? Have you picked a mastery yet?” Damian asked. Astoria propped herself up on an elbow, openly curious. 

“I actually got an offer with the International Confederation of Wizards in New York… I accepted last week.” She didn’t look at Draco as she spoke. 

“What! And you didn’t tell us?” Astoria shrieked, looking excited. Damian and Alice were both sitting up congratulating her. Neville grinned at her, but Draco felt like the world was moving in slow motion again. 

She’d accepted last week and hadn’t told him. In  _ New York.  _ He’d thought now she’d consider staying… but she hadn’t said a word. Betrayal washed over him, and before he could say a word, he was striding back to the castle, leaving Rose with their friends in the grass. He found himself in their classroom, staring at the runes they’d spent the last nine and a half months translating together. 

They weren’t any closer to finding out what the runes truly meant, and it made him wonder if all that time had been wasted. Wasted on runes that would never make sense, wasted on a witch that wouldn’t love him back. 

His father would be thrilled. His mother would be too, but she’d probably hide it better. 

He’d be doomed to an arranged marriage to someone like Daphne Greengrass or Charlotte Flint. He didn’t even have a chance. His signet ring cut into his hand, and his stomach twisted painfully. 

“You knew I was going home, Draco.” He didn’t turn to face the witch. 

“I assumed you’d tell me when you made a decision.” Draco’s tone sounded far too much like his father’s for his liking, but it was ice or cry.

“I didn’t want to ruin what time we had left.” Her voice sounded so thin, and he wanted to gather her up in his arms, but what good would that do now? 

“I thought you’d want to stay…” His own desperation to hear her say she wanted to stay with him tasted like blood in his mouth. 

“Hope and I got letters from Mom…” Her voice trembled, and Draco turned to face her. “She’s divorcing Dad. Hope is furious… Even after all he did to Mom, to us…” A fat tear rolled down her cheek, narrowly missing the scar under her eye, that he now knew was left by her father when she was nine. 

“I can’t leave Mom and Hope, Draco. Not now.” Another tear followed the first. “If they don’t lock him up, what’s stopping Hope from going right back to where we started? What’s to stop him from hitting her without Mom there to stop him? What’s to stop him from manipulating her to do whatever he wants without me to say no?”

Her eyes were pleading with him to understand, but his heart ached. 

“She’s my baby sister… I can’t leave her to him like that. But that’s why I picked the ICW… Maybe I’ll get to come to London sometimes. Or you can come to New York.” 

“Rose… With my mastery I’ll be here for at least two years. Maybe more. It’s too late to find another.” Draco’s stomach twisted thinking that he’d be in this castle for two more years without her, and again at her tears. She was in an impossible situation, and as much as he wanted her, Hope needed her. But he didn’t want her anywhere near her father. He couldn’t protect her now. 

“Draco I’m sorry.” Her voice broke. “I’m so sorry.” 

He stepped forward, and like so many times before, took her in his arms and let her cry. But this time, he cried with her. 

***

The next four days he spent every waking moment trying to memorize everything about her. Her rose-scented perfume and the way she’d cover her mouth with her hand when she couldn’t wait to say something before swallowing her food. The way that she looked in his bed and the way she would look at him when she though he wasn’t paying attention. The way she and Astoria would loop their arms through both of his when they were walking together down the hall. 

He opted to take the Hogwarts Express one last time instead of aparating to squeeze a few more hours out of it. It seemed like most of the seventh and 8th years had the same idea, and they found themselves in a compartment with Neville, Astoria, Alice, Damian, Pansy, and Theo. 

They laughed, the girls cried, and when the train pulled into King's Cross, nobody was ready to say goodbye. 

Hope found them on the platform, her own eyes red. 

“Bye, Little Miss Sunshine.” She smiled weakly at Draco’s nickname for her, no longer said with malice, and turned away, collection their trunks and allowing them to say goodbye. 

“I guess this is it.” Rose took a deep breath, but Draco kissed her before she could say anything. 

“We’ll write. We’ll catch portkeys and I’ll see you soon. This isn’t goodbye.” She nodded, and kissed him one last time, pressing a box into his hand before hurrying away. 

At the Manor, he sat on his bed, taking the box out. It was tied with one of her yellow ribbons, and he untied it carefully. It smelled like her. Inside the box was a polished bronze plaque, with an engraved dragon curled around a rose. 

He laughed once, and then he cried. This was it; this was all he had now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was so hard for me to write, but I tried to do Rose justice. She had to protect her sister, so she made the impossible choice. 
> 
> But this isn’t goodbye.


	28. Just Friends

July, 1999

“Draco you arse!” Astoria yelled across the Malfoy’s library. “You can’t hide in here forever!” 

“He’s not in here dear.” Narcissa appeared at the end of a stack, a quill stuck through her perfectly coiffed hair, her wand in her hand. 

“Sorry, Lady Malfoy.” Astoria blushed scarlet. Her mother would be appalled to hear about this. 

“You may want to try my office. Third door on the left.” Narcissa eyed her, and Astoria automatically stood straighter. Narcissa’s slight jerk of her head had Astoria fleeing. 

In Narcissa’s office, she found Draco stretched out on the sofa, a book in hand. He looked up at her, scanning her up and down. 

“Your mother is terrifying, and I’m fairly certain she’s going to hate me for the rest of time now, but it’s been a month and you have  _ got  _ to get out of here!” Draco smirked. 

“While I appreciate a healthy dose of fear, there are very few people I truly hate, dear.” Astoria jumped, stumbling forward out of Narcissa’s way, immediately blushing to the roots of her hair again. 

Draco was shaking with silent laughter, his eyes watering, Narcissa plucking the quill from her hair, putting it away in a drawer of her desk and breezing back out the door again. 

When she was certain the woman was gone, she dropped her face into her hands, groaning. 

“That was brilliant. You should try Father next.” Draco sat up, setting the book aside. 

“Can I settle for offending one of your parents at a time?” She sat down next to him, pulling a silk throw pillow into her lap. 

“Depends. What did you do before you called her terrifying?” 

“I may or may not have yelled that you were an arse across the library,” she mumbled. 

Draco nodded appreciatively, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “You’re never going to live that one down. And I hate to break it to you, but it’s very possible Father was in there, too.”

She pressed her face into the pillow. “I’m going to go die now, it was nice knowing you.” Her words were muffled through the pillow. 

“It could be worse.” 

She dropped the pillow to her lap, deadpanning. “How.” 

“Your parents could have heard it,” he snickered. She groaned again, pressing the pillow into her face. 

“So I trust you’re staying for dinner.” 

Astoria smacked him with the pillow. 

She did end up staying for dinner, with Narcissa staring her down across the table, Draco hiding his snickers in his potatoes and Lucius pretending she didn’t exist. 

According to Draco, it was a roaring success. After she left for the night, Draco was cornered in the library by both of his parents. 

“Should we start planning a betrothal?” Lucius got straight to the point. 

“What?” Draco blinked rather stupidly at his parents. 

“Are you intending on courting Ms Greengrass?” Narcissa asked slowly, watching Draco carefully. 

“No. She’s great, but no. She’s dating Neville Longbottom, and she has another year to go at Hogwarts. Not to mention I still have feelings for Rose. Astoria and I are just friends. 

Lucius” lip twisted into a sneer. “Surely her parents agree that you are a better match than the Longbottom boy.” He didn’t even try to broach the subject of the American witch; it hadn’t ended well yet, for anyone involved. 

“Lucius,” Narcissa warned. “Young Mr Longbottom is lauded as the one that killed that awful snake.”

Lucius wrestled his face into neutrality. “Still, having a daughter marry into the Malfoy fortune is not to be looked down upon, even for the Greengrass family.”

“I’m not dating, courting, or otherwise involved with Tor— Astoria.” Draco insisted firmly, catching his familiarity half a second too late. 

His mother arched a delicate eyebrow, and his father pressed his lips into a thin line. 

“Very well,” Narcissa conceded. “For what it’s worth, I do like her.” She smiled slightly.

“You would,” Lucius snorted. “She reminded me of you.” 

***

The next time Astoria came across the Malfoy’s floo, Neville was right behind her, and Draco watched in amusement when his father walked in unsuspectingly to find the three of them together in the library, Astoria tucked firmly under Neville’s arm. He was fairly certain his father was going to develop a permanent twitch if he kept up this way, but he managed to be polite. 

Narcissa was having entirely too much fun making Astoria uncomfortable, and always seemed to flit in when she was starting to drop her guard. The third time it happened, Astoria had been laying on her back on the floor, holding a book above her to read. She saw Narcissa’s high heels approaching and promptly dropped the sizable volume on her face. After her eyes stopped watering and Narcissa had retreated, she glared at Draco. 

“Next time you’re coming to my place. My parents will adore you and I might make it out alive.” Neville shrugged at Draco, amusement sparkling in his hazel eyes. 

“It’s your funeral, mate.” 

Clarence and Vera Greengrass were arguably just as terrifying as Lucius and Narcissa, but Draco seemed to have better luck navigating the social niceties that they expected. Dinner had been significantly less strained than it had been with his own parents. 

He came home from the Greengrass Manor to a letter from Rose, and had spent the next several weeks locked in his room, only speaking to the house elves until Narcissa had enough. 

***

August, 1999

She stood in the Greengrass’s drawing room, the navy and charcoal greys feeling oppressive as her own home had once been. She shuddered at the thought. 

Astoria, having been summoned by a house elf, came in feeling severely underdressed in a cotton sundress despite the late hour, and more than slightly terrified to know why her best friend’s mother was asking for her. A pit in her stomach told her it was the same reason he wasn’t answering her owls. 

“Lady Malfoy. Would you care for tea?” Astoria was sure she was there to tell her to leave her son alone; possibly announcing a betrothal. 

“No, thank you.” She sat primly across from her, her ice-blue eyes appraising. She herself was dressed in a pale green chiffon dress, the diamonds that sparkled in her ears and at her throat worth a small fortune. The witch got straight to the point. 

“I came because I need you to speak to Draco.” 

Astoria blinked, her mind not quite comprehending what the elegant lady across from her was asking. 

“Me?” 

“Yes, dear. You.” A hint of impatience colored Narcissa’s voice. “Unless there is someone else you think may be better suited to get through to my son.” 

“Rose—“

“Has done enough damage.” Narcissa blinked rapidly, looking away from the girl in front of her. “Draco received a letter from her the evening he was here. He has not spoken to anyone or left his rooms since. You somehow managed to pry him from my library when she left, and now I am hoping you will pry him from whatever depths he is in now.” 

“Lady Malfoy, I don’t think… I’m not sure…” She bit her lip. 

“Miss Greengrass, I’m sure you will understand and not take it lightly when I say that I am desperate to reach my son, by any means necessary. If you recall, the last time I considered myself to be  _ desperate,  _ I lied to the Dark Lord to ensure his safety. Considering my options, I felt you might be the most… delicate choice, even if you are  _ just friends _ .”

Blue eyes met blue eyes, and Astoria found herself nodding. 

“Would it be presumptuous to ask if I may involve some others, and have use of your ballroom?” 

“Invite the whole damn country if you must. Just don’t let him waste away.” Narcissa’s fear and frustration tested every thread of self control she had. Draco hadn’t been this despondent with the Dark Lord in residence or while waiting to hear of the Wizengamot’s decisions on the outcome of their lives. She had been honest. She  _ was _ desperate. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Lady Malfoy. If you’ll allow me time to change and make a few fire calls, I can be there within the hour.” Astoria was standing, smoothing the cotton dress she wore over her thighs. 

Narcissa stood as well, something akin to relief in her eyes. “Thank you, Astoria.” The younger woman was taken aback, but nodded. 

“I would do anything for Draco.” 


	29. Saving Someone

True to her word, an hour later she was striding through the floo at Malfoy Manor, her cotton sundress exchanged for a sparkling silver minidress and high heels. 

“Did she come to talk to him or stand in for a disco ball,” Lucius muttered under his breath to his wife as they watched the girl disappear down the corridor towards the family suites. 

“I don’t particularly care if it gets him out,” Narcissa hissed back, already formulating the next plan of attack if Astoria failed. 

Narcissa and Lucius watched as several more girls came through the floo, similarly dressed, but turned the opposite direction towards the ballroom. 

“Are we going to regret this?” Lucius looked decidedly unimpressed as Pansy Parkinson chose that moment to usher what looked to be a full band through their fireplace. 

He rolled his eyes but fell silent at his wife’s sharp glare in his direction. Narcissa could only hope that if they did, it would be the least of their regrets. 

***

Astoria came to a stop outside the massive double doors that led to Draco’s rooms. She knocked first, the impact of her knuckles on the wood echoing through the marble hallway. 

“Draco, are you there?” She knocked again. No answer. 

“Draco, I’m coming in.” The heavy doors opened at her touch, and she stepped through into the opulent rooms. Her own rooms at Greengrass Manor were lavish, but they didn’t come close to this. She was relatively certain Versailles would pale in comparison. 

The sitting room that acted as the antechamber was empty, so she pushed into the bedroom. There was a vaguely Draco-shaped lump in the middle, so she kicked off her heels and took a running jump. The bedding was various shades of grey and cream, and pillowed out around her when she landed. 

The lump in the middle of the bed groaned, and she paused. 

“Are you wearing trousers?”

“No.” 

“Are you wearing pants?” 

“If I say no will you leave?”

“No.”

He sighed, the sound muffled by the thick covers. “Then yes.” 

“Good.” She ripped the covers off, uncovering Draco’s scowl, unperturbed by the fact he was wearing nothing but black boxers. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I’m saving you because you haven’t been answering my owls and we’re having a party. People will be showing up in an hour so you better shower. From what I hear, it’ll take you the full hour to get ready, so up up up.” 

She ripped the covers the rest of the way off before he could rebury himself. 

“Where’s your closet?” He glared at her, so she shrugged and started opening doors. Locating the correct door, she started rifling through hangers, pulling out a slim cut Muggle suit in a dark pearlescent grey. 

“Up, or I’m having a house elf bathe you like a child,” she called from the depths of his cavernous closet. When she was pleased with the outfit she had assembled, she made it back into his bedroom. He wasn’t in bed any longer, so she laid out the clothes and with her feet still bare, ran out of his room and down the length of hallway that led to the second story observational balcony of the ballroom. 

Pansy and Daphne were directing a small legion of house elves to decorate the space in tasteful black, white, and gold hangings. A well-stocked bar was being set up in the corner, and how Pansy had gotten a live band in less than an hour and a half was a mystery to her, though she was relatively certain it had something to do with the name “Malfoy” and some well-placed galleons. 

“Draco, you better appreciate this,” she murmured to herself. 

“If you get him out of bed, we certainly will.” Lucius’ dark, silky voice coming from behind her made her jump. She whirled to find him just inside and to the left of the door, watching the preparations below him with an impassive expression. She must’ve passed right by him and hadn’t even noticed. He leaned more heavily on his walking stick than she was accustomed to seeing, and had a lowball glass in his free hand. 

“Lord Malfoy, I’m sorry I didn’t—“ He flicked his unnerving silver gaze to her, essentially muting her. 

“May I inquire as to why you believe a  _ party _ is the best way to engage my son?” His haughty expression made her want to stay silent, but she answered anyway. 

“It’s not about the party, sir. It’s about reminding him he’s not alone… even without Rose.” She dropped her eyes to the floor and her bare feet against the marble. All of the sudden her pink-polished toenails seemed incredibly juvenile and she felt awfully exposed. 

“He has friends. A lot of us. But he forgets sometimes, or tries to believe he doesn’t; I’m not really sure which. Neville’s come to think of him as his best mate… Theo and Pansy are always there. Axios thinks anyone else is inferior when it comes to chess, and I’ll never admit it to his face but he’s the only reason I stayed on the quidditch team… The only reason I did a lot of things, to be honest.”

“And why do you assume my son doesn’t simply prefer to be alone?” Lucius’ disdain was evident, but it allowed her to gain a measure of confidence and she looked him in the eye once more. 

“I’m not assuming anything. I know he doesn’t. Nothing scares him more than losing the people he loves… Especially yourself and Lady Malfoy.” 

Lucius lifted an eyebrow, and she swallowed hard. His lip curled, but his glare didn’t seem to be directed at her. Instead it seemed to be at a wall across the way. They’d expanded the ballroom since the war had ended, and Draco had hinted that the remodel was done to disguise painful memories. Astoria wondered if she’d just stumbled into one. 

She stood silent, not wanting to encroach upon his private thoughts. 

“What do you know of Ms Hollingsworth’s familial situation, Ms Greengrass?” Lucius’ sudden question caught her off guard, and she faltered. 

“Rose told me what happened, and what you did for them… I know she only left Draco because she felt she had to protect her sister.” 

Rose had spilled her soul to Astoria one late night in the Slytherin common room in April, when Rose had crept from Draco’s room, trying to keep her tears from waking him. Astoria had been restless after an argument with Neville, and they’d ended up talking about everything. 

When she’d admitted to Astoria that she couldn’t stay, Astoria had seen how much it broke her, how much she desperately wanted to stay with Draco. Rose had asked Astoria to keep her secret; kept it she had, even though it tore her to pieces when Draco had found out the day on the banks of the Black Lake. 

“Then I hope you understand that I did all I could.” Lucius’ arrogance was stripped away, and for the first time Astoria saw him as a man, as a father who loved his son in his own way, even if he couldn’t quite save him. “If you’ll excuse me, Ms Greengrass.” He turned away from her, disappearing with the slightest limp through a door midway through the hallway. Astoria stayed still for a long moment, until she remembered she had to make sure Draco was getting ready. 

As she passed the door he’d retired to, she heard the unmistakable notes of an old wizarding lullaby being played on a piano. 

***

The impromptu party was a roaring success, and now those that remained were sprawled over the ballroom floor, cushioning charms applied to varying degrees of success by those of varying degrees of sobriety. 

Astoria was laying between Neville and Draco, her arms linked around both of theirs as she’d done so many times within the walls of Hogwarts. Alice, Damian, Hannah, Pansy, and Theo rounded out their circle, their heads all close together with their bodies radiating out like the spokes of a wagon wheel as they stared up at the intricately painted ceiling. 

Draco thought it felt wrong without Rose, but at the same time, he felt so relieved that they were all still here. 

“This was fun,” Pansy giggled. 

“Draco please tell me you’re going to host more parties like this. Life is going to be so boring with half of us working at the Ministry.” Alice sounded only slightly more sober than Pansy. 

“Not all of us have boring jobs,” Theo sniffed. 

“Financial consulting with Gringotts is the epitome of a boring job, Theo. Don’t play coy,” Hannah seemed to be the only one that still had her head on straight, but then as she was working at the Three Broomsticks, Draco wondered if she had practice holding her liquor… Or if she simply had more self control. “Now Nev and Axios… Aurors! That's exciting… Saving the wizarding world all over again.”

“Where is Axios? Who’s he saving?” Damian sat up to look around with unfocused eyes. 

“He’s in Greece visiting his grandparents before training starts,” Draco reminded him, hoping the Gryffindor wasn’t going to hurl all over them because he sat up too fast. 

“At least you’re not all going back to school in two weeks,” Astoria moaned.” 

“Technically Draco is too,” Neville snickered. 

“But he gets an office, so it doesn’t count,” Pansy chimed in. 

“Oh Merlin, could you imagine going back to  _ teach _ ? That would be bloody awful,” Alice laughed. 

“I’ve thought about it,” Neville admitted. 

“What would you—“ 

Damian was cut off by everyone else chiming in at once, “Herbology.” 

They laughed, and one by one they started to drift off. Draco was sure he was the only one awake when Astoria squeezed his hand. 

“What happened,” she asked quietly, turning her head to face him. He kept staring at the ceiling, thinking of the letter he’d gotten that sent him into a tailspin. 

“She went back for nothing. Hope went back to live with her dad. She only went back to save Hope, and she couldn’t.” Draco’s voice sounded rough, like saying the words tore him open from the inside it. It was certainly how it felt. 

“Draco… She’ll see she’s wrong, she’ll go home to her mom and Rose. You’ll see. And her mom needs her still, even if Hope isn’t there.” 

“I’m supposed to go visit, before the term starts and I begin my work with Aurora. But I can’t. If I go, I know I won’t come back. How am I supposed to tell her that?” 

“Tell her the truth. She’ll understand.” Astoria’s hand found his, and he held on, hoping she was right. He didn’t see the two figures watching as he brought his other hand over to hold even tighter to the girl that was his lifeline. 

***

“It would seem you were correct again.” 

Narcissa hummed, watching her son take the hand of the girl next to him, and pressed her back into her husband’s side. His left arm encircled her waist, and she sighed. 

“He is going to be alright, Cissa.”

“I know… I just feel as if I’m running out of time.” The feeling had been nagging at her, exacerbating the anxiety she felt for her son’s well-being. 

“Nonsense. We have all the time in the world,” Lucius purred into her ear, and she found herself inexplicably teary-eyed. 

“What if we don’t, Lucius? We all could have been killed before. We still might now. There isn’t any reason to believe otherwise. What if we can’t save him?” Narcissa was not one for pointless tears, or emotion trumping reason. Nor was she one for physical affection or a show of weakness where her son or any one of his friends could see if they were to simply look up; but for once she let herself turn to her husband and cry into his shoulder. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He simply wrapped his free arm around her and let her cry. 

***

From the ballroom floor, a set of blue eyes watched, and Astoria decided that the Malfoys were less terrifying than they led everyone to believe. Narcissa was a mother, first and foremost, and Lucius was the protector of their family, even if his attempts weren’t always obvious to an outsider. She highly doubted that the world would ever see what she’d learned that night, but she found she didn’t mind much. 

Whoever found themselves welcomed into the Malfoy family one day would have to see it, and she hoped they would find it within them to accept them, for Draco’s sake. 


	30. Not Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco starts his Mastery, and relationships end

October, 1999

“Tori what are you doing here?” Draco stopped at the sight of Astoria sitting against the wall, her knees to her chest and her head in her hands. 

Astoria had popped by his office a few times since term had begun six weeks ago, but it was usually after classes had ended for the day. Now it was barely after lunch, and he’d just returned from lunch at the manor. 

“Well you and the rest of my friends left at the end of last year, my boyfriend is currently training to do one of the most dangerous jobs in our world, Poppy is gone, and I keep thinking that if I don’t pass my NEWTs, I don’t get to be a healer and my parents will be right. So I’m going to sit here, and try not to think about it all so I don’t cry. Again.” She didn’t look up, and Draco suspected she was already crying. 

“Okay…” Draco set his books down, catching the portfolios full of rune sheets as they started to slide from his desk. She huffed a laugh. 

“You and your damn seeker reflexes.” She wiped her eyes, and sat back against the wall. Draco shrugged, and began to replace rune sheets on the wall. He worked methodically, and she watched, his movements calming her. 

When Aurora came in an hour later, the witch on the floor was working silently, the wizard sitting at his desk concentrating on the work at hand. She smiled to herself, and didn’t say a word, just pulled up a chair to her own desk next to Draco’s and dove in herself.

Every day after classes and her free period after lunch on Tuesday and Wednesday she showed up, and the next week, a third desk was added. Draco was reminded of the year before, of Rose, and it made his heart ache and throat tight, but he was thankful for the company. 

Halfway through November, she came in looking pale. 

“You okay?” Draco looked up from his work, looking her over carefully before returning to the sheet in front of him. 

“I have four assignments and three essays to do in the next two days, Neville and I broke up this weekend. And a partridge in a pear tree.” 

“Wait what?” He looked up, eyes wide. He thought she and Neville were solid. 

“Charms, potions, transfiguration—“ she started ticking off assignments on her fingers. 

“You broke up with him?”

“It was mutual. We’re just not a good fit, and we knew it. We’ve known for longer than I care to admit. We’ll stay friends, but…” She shrugged, looking defeated. 

“It got to the point he was more like my brother. I miss having someone, but he just wasn’t it. I think he was relieved that I brought it up because I guess he felt the same way.” Draco nodded. 

“I’m sorry Tori.”

“I’m not. It really is better this way. I love him to death. But… Not like that.” 

She dove into her numerous assignments, and Draco turned to his translations, wondering if it would be easier if he’d felt that way about Rose. He missed her so much his chest physically ached sometimes. It wasn’t just the physical aspects, either. It was having someone he could read with a single glance, someone that could read him right back. 

He still hadn’t gone to New York, and she hadn’t returned to London, either. 

The next weekend he owled Neville to go out for drinks. They met up at the Three Broomsticks, and with a subtle prod, Neville was telling Draco everything. 

“I love her but not romantically. She wrote me a letter this week and it finally didn’t feel so forced. It’s a bloody relief, really. I was terrified she was going to hate my guts if I broke it off, you know how you Slytherins are with grudges…” 

He was still talking when Draco caught sight of Hannah behind the bar eyeing Neville. He smirked. Neville wouldn’t be single long. But then, he didn’t think Astoria would be either. 

He was correct on both counts. Neville started dating Susan Bones just after New Years, and Astoria was spending less time in Draco’s office now that she was dating Preston Higglebee, a Hufflepuff he didn’t know but instinctively didn’t like either. 

February came, and Astoria came in, her free period now before lunch on Mondays and Fridays. As always, Draco looked her over carefully before turning back to his translations. 

“Rough day?” 

“I broke up with Preston. I caught him with some Gryffindor sixth year.” 

“I’m sorry, Tori.”

“I’m not.” She settled into her desk, and together they worked in silence. If he was going to be honest with himself, he wasn’t sorry the git had finally showed his true colors either. Astoria deserved the best. 

Several weeks later, he got an owl from Neville. Again they met at The Broomsticks, and Draco and Neville moped into their firewhiskey for the better part of an hour. Neville over his break up with Susan, and Draco over the letter he’d received from Rose earlier that day until Alice, Pansy, and Axios showed up. Hannah passed her towel off to another barmaid, and brought over a round of butterbeers. 

“Ok guys! I’m trying a new recipe and you need to tell me what you think.” Since leaving Hogwarts, she’d been experimenting with different brewing processes for butterbeer. Some of them had been quite good, while others had fallen a bit flat. None of them had been strictly terrible though, so they each took a bottle and rose them in their customary toast.

“Unexpected friendships.” 

Draco’s first sip reminded him of the first time they’d all come to The Broomsticks together, the previous January; the familiar feeling of warmth and being surrounded by his friends. And then the flavor shifted subtly, getting sweeter and somehow even warmer.

“Gods Hannah this is amazing!” Pansy usually hated butterbeer, and Hannah flushed from the high praise from the Slytherin. 

“This. You need to make more of this one.” Axios agreed heartily, raising his half-empty bottle to her. 

“You’re brilliant.” Neville looked awed, and Hannah went the brightest shade of pink yet. 

“You have to say that, you’re my best friend,” she objected.

“He’s not sorry though, is he?” Draco urged, and Hannah grinned. 

Neville seemed to forget about his misery, spending much of the evening lost in conversation with Hannah. Draco was quiet that evening, thinking over the last year. Pansy caught his eye, and he shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it. 

Unfortunately, Pansy was a step ahead of him.

***

Early March, 2000

“So what happened last night?” Astoria leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed. Draco looked over from the sheet on the wall he was examining, looking her up and down once before turning back.

“Nothing happened last night.”

“That’s not what I heard.” 

“Then you heard wrong.”

“Pansy is almost never wrong, and you know it.” 

He swore under his breath.

“So what happened?” Astoria slung her bag across her desk, pulling out what looked to be a potions essay. 

“Nothing happened,” he insisted, and was relieved when she was quiet. 

“I know you miss her.”

“She wants to see other people. She said it’s not doing either of us any good pining away after each other.” 

“Merlin… Draco, I’m sorry.” 

“I am too… Even if we aren’t together, she’s my best friend, besides you and Neville.”

“You’re not going to hide in your bed for weeks on end again, are you? Because last time I ended up with your mother in my sitting room and your father staring me down in my bare feet, and I’m not in a hurry to repeat either of those experiences.”

Draco blinked over his shoulder at her, his confusion evident. 

“Oh come on. It’s not like I just waltzed in and went ‘Oh hey, Narcissa! Lucius! Great to see you! Now I’m going to hijack your ballroom and fill it with about 200 people that you don’t know and probably wouldn’t like.’ You had to have known that wasn’t me.” 

“I kind of assumed that Pansy did exactly that, actually.” He was completely serious, and Astoria laughed. 

“She probably would have, but she didn’t, and here we are. So please, tell me you aren’t going to do it again.” 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He shrugged apathetically. He probably wouldn’t have been, but he didn’t want to let Aurora down after she took a chance on him by offering this mastery in the first place… And he’d hoped Astoria would be around. She eased the ache that he’d felt since saying goodbye to Rose. 

“I’m just asking if you go back into hiding, give me some warning so I can prepare properly for the storm that is Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.” 

He snorted. “They do like you, for what it’s worth. My mother wouldn’t be caught dead in Cordelia Parkinson’s house asking for Pansy’s help… Though that may have more to do with the fact that Father dated her while they were in school.” 

“Your father and Pansy’s mother?” Astoria laughed until she couldn’t breathe. 

“Tell me about it. I got that one dropped on me last Christmas. I can’t really see him with anyone other than my mother, though.” 

“He did always like the smart ones, or so I heard,” Aurora smirked from the doorway. 

“You were here with them?” Astoria’s eyes got wide.

“No, I came in the year after Narcissa left, but they left quite the legacy.” Draco and Astoria shared a look, and Aurora laughed. 

“Lucius was crazy about her. Apparently he liked to send her gifts. Very expensive gifts.” She shot Draco a knowing look. “They started calling grand romantic gestures “Pulling a Lucius.” You should have seen the day their engagement was announced in the  _ Prophet.  _ I won 10 galleons off Coraline Flint. She swore up and down Narcissa would hex Lucius into the next century before saying yes to his proposal, but I bet she’d say yes.” 

Draco snickered. “Knowing Mother, she probably did hex him at some point, and definitely wasn't sorry about it.”

“They really love each other though,” Astoria had her chin propped in her hand, a sweet, dreamy smile playing at her lips. Draco just sighed. 

“Lucky them. Want to bet they don’t give me the same chance and I’ll get stuck in an arranged marriage within the next five years?” He fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice, and failed miserably. 

“I think you’d be surprised,” Aurora said lightly, turning to the sheets Draco had left on her desk for review. Astoria didn’t say anything more, watching as Draco stared morosely at the sheet on the wall, clenching his right hand into a fist. His signet ring glittered on his middle finger, the emerald there glinting in the light. 

She pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, and began a letter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curveball! Did anyone see that one coming? Let me know what you thought, I love comments and kudos!


	31. Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astoria made some arrangements for Draco

April, 2000

Arrangements took longer than Astoria anticipated, but in mid-April, she strolled into Draco’s office to find him staring morosely out the window rather than at his work. He turned, his grey eyes sweeping over her and landing on the letter in her hand. 

“So you now have plans this weekend.” She grinned at him. 

“I don’t think I do, actually.” He turned back to the window. She came to stand behind him, waving the letter in front of his eyes. He recognized Neville’s scrawl, though with it swaying side to side, he couldn’t make out the rest of it. He pulled it from her grasp and read over it. 

“Gran’s in the country… Hannah, Pansy, Theo, Alice, Caroline, Damian, Blaise... “ He got to the last name, not sure if he wanted to believe what he was reading.

“Professor Sinistra said to have fun and she’d see you Monday.” Astoria grinned at Draco’s shock. 

“I don’t… Are you serious?” Draco didn’t smile, or laugh like she’d thought he would. Instead he seemed… Stunned. Even anxious, if she had to guess. “I don’t…” He shook his head, dropping the letter. “I don’t know what to say to her.” 

Astoria pushed his books aside, sitting on the desktop facing him. “You said it yourself. She’s still your best friend.” She cocked her head. “Unless I’ve finally beat her out for the position.” 

Draco snorted, looking away again. “Are you sure it’s a position you want?” He pushed his hand through his hair, the blond locks falling like strands of silk from his fingers. 

Astoria reached up, pushing a stray lock from his forehead. “I’d have stopped trying a long time ago if I didn’t. You should at least go. If you decide that you made the wrong choice, I’ll be here all weekend working on that damn essay for Professor Sprout because Neville isn’t here to recite the book anymore.” 

Draco caught her hand in his, squeezing it. “Thanks, Tori.” 

She smiled, hoping the twinge of sadness she felt wasn’t visible. All of the sudden she was doubting herself for arranging it all. She wanted Draco to be happy… But was this the way to do it? 

She was still perched on his desk when he slung his bag over his shoulder, ducking next door to Aurora’s office to use her floo. A moment later, he poked his pale-haired head back in, a smile on his lips. 

“You are my best friend, Tori. Only that could have gotten you out of calling my mother terrifying alive.” She blushed at the memory, and he dodged the stinging jinx she hurled at him. She heard him laughing even as the floo activated, whisking him right back into the arms of the woman that had broken his heart. Astoria turned her attention to the window, and hoped that this weekend wouldn’t backfire on her. 

***

Draco held his breath as he whirled past fireplace after fireplace until he stepped out onto the mauve rug he’d stepped out onto so many times before. This time, however, it wasn’t Neville that greeted him, but Rose. 

She’d changed since the last time he’d seen her, her skin more golden, her hair a shade lighter and several inches shorter, hanging loose around her shoulders. Her brown eyes were the same though, and when she opened her arms, he didn’t hesitate. 

“Hi, Rosie.” He crushed her against him, amazed that even after nearly a year, it felt so familiar and natural to hold her. Her curves were more pronounced and her perfume was different, too, he noticed. “Where are the others?” 

“Neville said he thought he should give us some space, but I’m pretty sure it was an excuse to go make out with Hannah, and the others aren’t here yet. I thought we could talk… Just the two of us.” He pulled back, suddenly remembering that Rose wasn’t  _ his  _ any longer. 

“Maybe we should.” He swallowed hard. He just wanted to hold her. She looked so beautiful in the afternoon light, her smile bright and the lavender blouse accenting her voluptuous curves and making her skin positively glow. 

She led them into the floral abomination that was Neville’s kitchen, and she retrieved two bottles of butterbeer and sat at the table. A long silence stretched out, and he fiddled with the bottle, not sure what to say. 

“Tori said you’ve been doing really well with your Mastery,” she offered, and Draco shrugged. 

“It’s alright. I’m hoping to have my first paper published in June.” 

“That’s fantastic.” She gave him a shy smile, and Draco’s heart stuttered. How much he wanted to say, and nothing was coming out. He’d missed her so much for so long and now she was back, within reach, and he couldn’t have her.

“How’s your mum? And Little Miss Sunshine?” He didn’t miss the flash of pain in her eyes before she looked away. 

“Mom’s actually doing really well. After the divorce was finalized she moved out of my grandparents’ house, a really cute place on the beach in North Carolina. She’s dating someone. I’ve only met him twice, but he seems like a nice guy. He treats her better than Dad ever did. Hope’s finishing her sixth year at Ilvermorny back in Thunderbird… She writes semi-regularly, but she still defends Dad…” Draco knew better than to ask. She’d tell him what happened with her father when she was good and ready, not a moment before. She trailed off, and gave Draco a half smile. 

“It’s odd, seeing you without your ribbon,” he said suddenly. She laughed. Sweet Merlin and Morgana how he’d missed that sound. She flicked her wand, and out tumbled an electric blue length of ribbon. 

“Why are you anxious? It’s just us.” Draco plucked the ribbon from the tabletop, running the familiar length through his fingers. 

“I guess I just can’t believe I’m back in England, and you’re here… I thought you’d hate me for saying we weren’t working long distance. When Tori wrote me and Nev to set it up and surprise you, I thought you’d be furious.”

Draco’s throat tightened, and his fist closed around the ribbon. “I could never hate you, Rosie. I’ve missed you so much.” His voice was barely a whisper, and he couldn’t look at her. 

“I’ve missed you too, you obnoxious green asshole.” 

“Pretentious know-it-all.” She grinned, and just like that, the tension was gone. She was still Rose. Unapologetic, unyielding, and most importantly  _ here.  _ He laughed, and met her eyes again. 

“This weekend is going to be fun. We’re not going to mope around like the world is ending.” She reached out her hand, and Draco took it, holding on tightly. 

“Let’s go interrupt Nev and Hannah. It’s payback time.” 

***

They found Neville and Hannah getting handsy in what had been his grandfather’s study, but Neville had slowly been taking it over as his own. Hannah blushed scarlet, still perched on the old hardwood desk, and Neville grinned, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

The others had arrived over the next several hours, and they all fell back into the same patterns as they had at school. Hannah and Pansy were right back to picking on Blaise and Damian, while Neville, Alice, Caroline and Theo made bets on who was going to get the next hex hurled at them. Draco and Rose hung back, content to just be present. 

After dinner they’d engaged in a rather interesting game of Pictionary that included copious amounts of alcohol and rather racy prompts, both courtesy of Pansy. The resulting chaos included Neville and Hannah disappearing for an hour, so they missed seeing Blaise get hexed by Caroline and Rose’s drawing making Draco spew tenta-quila out his nose. Draco proceeded to moan about the burn for the next hour, and Theo only just avoided a rather strong jelly-legs jinx shot off by a very inebriated Alice. 

The next morning, Hannah passed out sobering solutions and Caroline made breakfast, luring everyone out of the various guest rooms, and in Damian and Theo’s cases, off the sofas in the sitting room, having not made it to their rooms the night before. 

Draco and Rose had, by some drunken wrong turn, ended up in bed with Alice; though to their collective relief, all parties were still fully dressed when the sun rose. Blaise moaned about being in the room next to Neville and Hannah over coffee, to Neville’s embarrassment and Hannah’s utter horror, until Caroline pointed out that it was Pansy’s room he was next to. Pansy wouldn’t admit who her nocturnal guest had been, and the rest of breakfast was spent pointing fingers and everyone present denying any and all involvement. 

The day was spent much as their weekends at Hogwarts had been. Chess and games of exploding snap were played while they all talked about what they were doing now. 

Draco and Rose had been careful to not slip back into old habits, but when they trooped through the floo to watch a Muggle movie at Caroline’s parents’ house, Rose had tucked herself into his side on the sofa, his arm securely around her as they watched  _ The Wizard of Oz _ , at Rose’s insistence. 

“It’s my favorite movie and my damn flying monkey reference has gone over almost every single one of your heads, multiple times,” she whined until Alice gave up trying to get them to watch  _ The Titanic _ instead. 

Draco had seen a few Muggle movies now, but couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen when it changed from black and white to color. That is, until Rose had whispered with Dorothy, “there’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” Tears trickled down her cheeks, and he held onto her a bit more tightly. There may not be a place like home, but there was also no other witch like Rose. 

Back at Neville’s, more alcohol was consumed and they danced until they dropped, much like they had at Malfoy Manor. This time they weren’t neatly arranged in a circle, but they lounged over and around and on top of one another. Draco found himself very drunk with his head on Pansy’s thigh, his legs thrown over one of Blaise’s, and Rose’s head on his stomach. He plucked at locks of Rose’s hair, splaying it out over his torso like he’d once done over her bed in Ravenclaw tower. 

Theo was saying something off to his left, but he couldn’t be bothered to listen. Not now that Rose was here again. 

“Dracoooo” Hannah rolled over, eliciting a pained grunt from Neville as she crushed his abdomen. 

“Hannaahhhhh,” he turned lazily to look at her. 

“We need to find someone for Theo to date. Who do you know is single?” 

His alcohol-addled brain wasn’t prepared for matchmaking. “Hey, Alice. Has Damian pulled his head out of his arse yet?”

Caroline giggled. “They disappeared together over an hour ago so I’m thinking yes.” 

“Damn. Alice is out. Pans?” That earned him a swat to the top of his head. 

“That was so last year.” 

Neville sat up. “Hermione is single!” Draco laughed out loud. 

“ _ Granger?  _ And  _ Theo?  _ Not only would she hex him into oblivion, no way in hell would she be caught dead with a Slytherin pureblood like one of us. I’ll eat my tie the day that happens.” 

“Oh come on. She’d love a charity case like Theo,” Pansy snickered. 

“Excuse me,” Theo interjected. “Why am I the charity case? What about Blaise?” 

“I swear I’ve almost got Daphne won over. She’s this close to saying yes!”

Rose squeaked. “You’re getting married?” The room erupted into laughter. 

“He can’t even get her to say yes to a date,” Draco chuckled. “Tori swears up and down she never will, either.” 

“How is Tori?” Hannah looked around. Of everyone there, she’d been the least friendly with the younger Greengrass witch. 

“She’s better prepared for her NEWTs than anyone I’ve ever known and still swears up and down she’s going to fail and not get a Mungo’s placement.” Caroline sighed. 

“And she’s head over heels in love,” Pansy giggled. Draco sat straight up. 

“With WHO?!” Draco would have known if she was in love with someone, but as far as he knew, there hadn’t been anyone since Preston Higglebee. 

“Draco, darling, if you don’t know, you’ve really lost your touch.” He glared at Pansy, who was giggling with her head in Caroline’s lap. He looked pointedly between the two girls and raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh I have?” He smirked when Caroline’s eyes got wide. Gottcha. 

“It’s you, you idiot,” Rose tugged her hair free from where it tangled around his belt buckle, shifting so her head was on his thigh. He blinked down at her, smirk long gone. He couldn’t help but feel disconcerted by her own unconcerned delivery of the blunt announcement. 

“Bloody hell, mate. You didn’t know?” Neville was blinking up at him, and Theo and Blaise froze. 

“She’s my best friend! How was I supposed to—“ he stopped. “Oh fuck.” He flopped back down onto Pansy’s leg. “My mother knows, doesn’t she?” 

“Of course Narcissa knows,” Pansy snapped. “She’s not stupid.” The ‘unlike her son,’ was heavily implied. 

“I’m fairly certain Narcissa knew before Tori did. We were still together at that party, remember?” Neville grinned. 

“Why else would she make arrangements for this?” Hannah waved her hand vaguely at all them. 

Alice and Damien chose that moment to stumble back in to catcalls and laughs, leaving Draco to his thoughts. 

Why indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think?! Show some love with comments and Kudos!


	32. Personal Projects

That night he managed to make it into a bed alone, and lay awake most of the night trying to determine what this meant. Astoria was his best friend, and together or not, he still loved Rose. Astoria obviously knew that, and she’d still brought Rose over to surprise him. And evidently Rose had known, but either didn’t mind, didn’t care, or had gotten much better at hiding her emotions from him in the last year. 

Either way, he supposed someone was going to lose, and he didn’t much care to think about losing Rose or Astoria. The two girls had become integral to his well being, as he saw it. He needed them. Now he thought on it, one or the other had been with him much of the time for the past two years. In a few months, he would be alone at Hogwarts while Astoria was off at St Mungo’s. 

He fell asleep wondering when Astoria’s feelings had changed and how he hadn’t seen it, and what he was going to do when Astoria was no longer free to pop by his office whenever she pleased. 

Sunday was much more relaxed, and around three they started to say their goodbyes. Rose’s return portkey wasn’t until first thing Monday morning, but everyone else had things to finish up before the weekend was totally gone. By five, it was just Neville, Hannah, Rose and Draco. Neville and Hannah had wondered off to the greenhouse he kept, and Draco and Rose were in the sitting room. 

“What ever happened to those rune sheets we worked on?” Rose lay on her back on the floor, tracing glowing runes into the air with her wand. 

“I have them at home. It’s become a bit of my personal project.” Draco watched her from his place on the sofa. 

“What if we kept working on them, together?” She sat up, leaning her elbows on the cushions. “It’s not the same as before, but it would give us something.” Her brown eyes pleaded with him. 

“You’d want to do that?” Nothing more had been said about Astoria, and he was afraid that Rose would get the wrong idea. She smiled. 

“I’ve actually really missed it. I never really saw it as work with you,” she admitted. 

“Alright. Do you want to come with me to get them? My parents might be lurking about, but—“

“As if your parents would scare me off. Let’s go.” The sparkle in her eye was contagious, and he shook his head. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” 

***

Watching her face as they walked through the Manor was almost comical. Her eyes were simultaneously amazed and unimpressed somehow. 

“Ice prince,” she scoffed. “I get it now. Even more so than when—“

Narcissa stepped out of a drawing room, her long, pale pink gown floating around her like some ethereal cloud. She arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow, looking down at the witch with disinterest. 

“Mother, you remember Rose Hollingsworth.” 

Narcissa hummed. “Indeed. Hello Miss Hollingsworth. I wasn’t aware you had returned to England.” 

“It’s just for the weekend. To surprise Draco.” In classic Rose form, she didn’t back down from Narcissa’s icy greeting. 

“I see. Well it’s nice to see you again.” Her tone indicated that it was in fact, _not_ nice to see her, but Rose just smiled sweetly. ”Draco, when you’re free for a moment I think your father was looking for you.” She floated off in a towards the ballroom, leaving Draco and Rose watching her.

“She certainly has a way of making an entrance, doesn’t she?” Rose muttered once she disappeared. 

“Consider yourself lucky. She snuck up behind Tori in time to hear Tori call her “terrifying.” I thought Tori was going to spontaneously implode,” he chuckled, leaving her down the hallway to the library. 

Rose snorted, and then stopped dead in her tracks. “When you said library, I didn’t expect it to rival the National Library, good hell.” He prodded her forward into the massive three story space. “Though I suppose all the gold leaf should have clued me in. Exactly how rich are you?” 

Draco snorted. “Obscenely, even after war reparations.” 

“Are we talking more than the queen?” 

“Probably.” He smirked at her flat glare. “Don’t look at me, I didn’t do it. My grandfather was a business genius, and Father has done a pretty good job of keeping it up, when he isn’t playing politics. I never saw the draw, personally. I think it disappointed him that I went into a mastery instead of diving into business with him.”

“On the contrary, I’m quite happy you found something you have a passion for, Draco.” Lucius’ voice floated through the shelves. “But the state of our finances is hardly a good topic for polite company.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. 

“I saw that.” He appeared at the end of one of the stacks, several books in one hand, his walking stick in the other. “Ms Hollingsworth,” he nodded sharply at Rose. 

“Hello again, Mr Malfoy.” She smiled broadly, unphased by his stiff expression. He didn’t reply, disappearing down the next aisle of books. Draco shook his head, ushering her through a door into his old primary classroom. 

The rune sheets plastered the walls, and Draco watched her gravitate to the same passages that she’d worked on a million times before. Her fingers traced a fluttering line, and his throat tightened. For a moment he was transported back to the classroom that had been his self-imposed prison, then their quiet haven, followed by the place where they’d fallen in love and finally the room that stood empty and quiet without them. 

He could see her transfigured armchair and the chalk dust in the evening light, hear her laugh and the turning of pages. He could smell the cold stone, and the faint rose scent that accompanied her everywhere she went, as if she’d just stepped out of a summer garden. 

The taste of the tart green apples that seemed to show up right as he needed a snack lingered on his tongue, the memory of the feel her lips on his and her body pressed against the length of his made his skin tingle. 

For ten months that classroom had been where he was most comfortable, where he could truly be himself and where he found that he had friends. Now, Draco would pass it on his way to the library and couldn’t even look at the polished bronze plaque. The unblemished bronze made his chest ache, just as much as the engraved plaque on his dresser that it had replaced did. 

He blinked, and he was back at the manor, Rose’s back still to him, unaware of his internal turmoil. He took a deep breath to clear his head, and then another. He hung back in the doorway, knowing if he got any closer he wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to kiss her any longer. The weekend had tested every last iota of his self control, and this just reminded him too much of their beginnings. 

“Do you know if there’s any way that we can communicate instantaneously, rather than owling back and forth? It would make this far easier,” Rose mused, her back still to him. 

Draco thought for a moment, and then turned to face out of the door, towards the library. 

“Father?” He directed his call towards the stack that Lucius had disappeared behind, waiting expectantly. Lucius emerged three rows down, a decidedly annoyed expression that seemed to be directed at the growing stack of books now hovering beside him rather than at Draco. 

“Yes?” He turned his steely gaze to his son. 

“You told me of a charm that allows contracts to be altered and signed simultaneously. Does it have a distance limit?” 

Lucius moved closer, his lips turning down in a slight frown. 

“The furthest I’ve personally used it was between here and the chateau in France. Though I believe others have used it to much success between here and Japan.” 

“So between here and New York wouldn’t be an issue?” Draco’s thoughts were racing with the possibilities. “Would it work on documents other than magical contracts? How long does it last?” 

Lucius raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “As far as I know, it can be used on any two identical copies. The duration of the spell can be upwards of a year, as some discussions take significant lengths of time to finalize.”

“Are you a lawyer, too?” Rose was looking at the stack of books beside Lucius. At closer examination, they seemed to be books on wizarding law, and the thick volume on top entitled Muggleborns and the Ministry; A Complete History.

“No, Ms Hollingsworth, I am not a solicitor nor a barrister. This is for a personal project I am undertaking.” He looked down his nose at the witch, seemingly surprised that she was addressing him so frankly. 

Draco suppressed a smirk at the silent stand-off. He was honestly curious who would win this one. He wasn’t sure what it meant when Rose shrugged and turned her back to Lucius. She hadn’t bent beneath his gaze, and she’d actually turned her back to him, something very few people had done in a very long time. 

Lucius seemed equally perplexed, but turned back to Draco. 

“I assume you have a reason for asking these questions beyond arbitrary curiosity.” 

“Rose and I want to continue collaborating on the runes we started last year.” Draco motioned to the sheets around him. 

“Very well. I suggest you make duplicates and I will show you the charm.” Rose wiggled a sheaf of parchment between them. 

“Already done.” She stood back, watching as Lucius instructed Draco on the charm. When they were finished, she turned her scrutiny squarely on Lucius. 

“You know if you’re intending on working with more muggleborns, you might want to consider getting rid of that.” She looked pointedly at his walking stick. 

“Pardon me?” Lucius’ lip twitched dangerously, and Draco wasn’t sure if his patience would hold much longer. 

“I’m just saying, the creepy snake cane will freak out any muggleborn or half-blood that’s ever seen Aladdin.” 

Draco and his father shared confused glances, and Rose rolled her eyes. 

“Big bad guy with a magic snake staff with glowing eyes that he uses to control the king that the good guy and his genie have to beat to save the world?” She looked expectant. 

“Big… Bad… Guy…” Lucius repeated flatly, his lips twisting into his characteristic sneer until he seemed to remember to drop it in favor of apathy. 

“It’s a kids movie!” 

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “I expect we will be seeing you at dinner. Good day.” He swept past her, his stack of books bobbing along behind him.

Draco chuckled, shaking his head. “I guess we’re staying for dinner.”

***

Dinner was spent with Narcissa attempting to make polite conversation and Lucius trying to ignore the American’s veiled jabs at Draco, who was doing all he could to not choke when one unexpected topic after another tumbled from Rose’s sharp tongue. 

After dinner, they returned to Neville’s, where he and Hannah listened with interest as Rose recounted their dinner with Lord and Lady Malfoy. 

Hannah gaped at Draco, who shrugged. 

“They’re alright, really,” Neville nudged her until she closed her mouth. 

“Well we’re purebloods, aren’t we? They didn’t try to wipe us off the earth.”

Draco winced, and Rose glared at Hannah. 

“Come on, Draco.” 

They retreated to the room she was staying in, and she pulled a bottle of elf-made wine out of her bag, accompanied by two glasses. 

“For old times’ sake?” Draco grinned, accepting one of the glasses, and clambered onto the bed next to her, leaning back against the headboard after shedding his outer robes. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping the sweet white wine. 

“You’d be good with her, you know.” Rose didn’t have to specify who she was talking about. Draco had been waiting for this since the revelation the night before. “She’s what your parents want for you, too. Unlike me,” she snickered. 

“They’d like you just fine if you weren’t accusing my father of being a fairytale villain,” he chuckled. 

“I think he likes me because I’m not afraid of him. I actually thought he was really nice when he took me to the Ministry last year.” Draco turned to her, cocking an eyebrow. 

“You look just like him when you do that, did you know that?” She smirked, but sobered quickly. “Really though. I think your dad puts on a hell of a face, but he’s not nearly as bad as my—“ she stopped, and took a deep drink from her glass. Draco just waited. 

“I don’t know what he said to Hope, but she won’t hear a word against him. She and Mom got into an awful fight when we got back to the States and she said she would rather live with him. Mom was so heartbroken… Hope hasn’t been answering her letters. She answers mine, but skips over anything about Mom or D—“

She shook her head, angry tears welling up. 

“I hate him, Draco. I hate him for what he did to Mom and Hope and me. I hate that I can’t do anything to protect Hope.” 

Draco eased an arm around her. 

“I hated my father for a while… I know it’s not the same, not in the slightest, but I know how much it hurts. I wish I could tell you that your father will turn it around like mine did, or that Little Miss Sunshine will come around,” he said regretfully. “You’ve still got your mum, and you’ve got me.” She laid her head against his shoulder. 

“I think he’s drinking more too, since MACUSA fired him. He’s sent me a few letters, and his handwriting is a mess and I swear I can smell it on the paper. He was always unpredictable when he drank… He’d be extra nasty one minute and then all apologetic the next.”

“Have you replied to any of them?” Rose snorted. 

“No. And I won’t. The next time I see or talk to him, he’ll be behind bars or in a grave.” Rose’s coldness surprised him, but he understood. There had been a time when he’d wished his father dead, but for all his faults, Lucius Malfoy truly cared for his family, and had done his best to protect them. 

They fell asleep a while later, his arm around Rose, her head on his shoulder, just as they had before she’d gone home for Christmas. And just like that morning, he awoke with a stiff neck and an empty bed. 


	33. Next Year

June, 2000

Draco’s eyes lifted to the witch in the doorway, flicking from her shoes up to her face. She looked tired, but relieved. And then there was a flicker of something else he couldn’t quite place. 

“All finished, then?” He set his quill aside and leaned back in his chair, his spine popping back into alignment. 

“Done. Now I just get to wait for them to tell me I failed everything so St Mungo’s can rescind their offer.” Astoria crossed the room, perching on the edge of the desk she’d been using all year. The desk that would be moved next week because she wouldn’t be coming back. 

They hadn’t spoken of Rose’s visit since the day she left. He’d gathered Astoria in a tight hug, and held her for several minutes without saying a word. She didn’t ask, and he didn’t elaborate. He couldn’t find the words to tell her that Rose had left without saying goodbye, or that he knew of the affection Astoria held but didn’t voice. 

The next day, an apple was left on his desk with a note in Rose’s handwriting.   
  


_Until next year. We have a charm to renew._

Draco tucked the scrap of parchment away, and when Astoria came up after lessons, she didn’t ask why there were bits of an apple still clinging to some of the rough stone walls. 

Now, two months later, Draco wasn’t thinking of Rose or St Mungo’s or of apples. He was just thinking of Astoria and how her blue eyes reminded her of the summer skies over the quidditch pitch. She was still trying to convince him that she was going to be kicked out of the healer program. He just listened, and waited for her to finish. 

“Next weekend you should come play quidditch. One on one like the old days or we could get some others to play with us.” 

She stopped in the middle of her rant about the timing for a Dreamless Draught and blinked at him. “Quidditch?” 

“Yes, Tori. The sport you and I play, with the brooms and the big red ball?” He smirked at her. 

“I know what quidditch is. But why are you asking?” Tori eyed him, suspicion clear in her eyes. 

“Because we haven’t played in nearly a year and I think it's about time. Don’t you?” He raised an eyebrow, and she grinned. 

“Alright. Let’s play old man.” 

“If he’s old, I’m in trouble,” Aurora quipped, sliding into her desk. Draco snorted. She was younger than even Severus had been, so even by Muggle standards couldn’t be misconstrued as old. 

“With that scowl he looks older than you by at least a decade. You’re golden, Professor.” Astoria grinned at her, and Draco made a sound of protest. 

“I wasn’t scowling.” But he certainly was now. 

“You were before I came in. Your concentration face is practically the same look you’d shoot Hermione Granger across the Great Hall after she’d outsmart you,” Astoria giggled. 

Draco turned to his work, sniffing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He glanced up in time for Aurora and Astoria to share a look. 

“Speaking of Hermione, Lucius was telling me all about her work in the Magical Education Department. It seems she’s really shaking things up there,” Aurora said lightly. 

“Why would Father care what _Granger_ is up to?” Draco sneered, still irritated a year later that she’d beat him out in Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He’d only scored higher than her in History of Magic, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes. 

“Oh I don’t know, because he’s on the Board and whatever she does directly influences what he’s doing with the school?” Astoria rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to forgive her for breaking your nose sometime. Hell, I almost did it that one time because you weren’t watching the quaffle—“

“Is _that_ why you hated her?” Aurora propped her chin on her hand, looking very interested. 

“It is _not_ ,” Draco growled at Astoria. “And you didn’t even come close to my nose.” She suppressed a smile. 

“I didn’t care for Granger because she’s a social-climbing, know-it-all with bad hair and—“

“Social climbing? Because Krum cornered her in the library?” Aurora laughed. “That was hardly her doing.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“She testified for you, that has to mean something.” Astoria didn’t flinch under his glare. “Oh come off it. You’ll probably never see her again, calm down.” 

“If I do, it will be too soon.” The two women rolled their eyes, but let it go. 

Astoria left shortly afterwards, and Aurora turned to Draco. 

“So with the term ending, I’m getting as far from the castle for the next two months as possible, and I strongly suggest you do the same. Keep working or take a break, it’s up to you. But don’t do it here.” 

Draco blinked at her. That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. She shrugged. 

“Take the summer and have some fun. You’ve already completed far more than the first year mastery program requires, if you keep going at this rate you’ll outstrip me by October. The great thing about Ancient Runes is there isn’t much urgency for translating 700-year old documents.” 

“Alright then. I’ll just finish this—“

“You’re going to finish whatever it is either at home or here in September,” she said firmly. A bit more gently, she added, “and I’ll see you here September 4th.”

He gathered his things slowly, grabbing a few of the rune sheets, along with what he’d already translated. 

As he stepped through the floo, she waved with a grin. “See you next year!” 

He was still rolling his eyes as he stepped into the manor, intending to make his way to the library, but stopped when he heard the music spilling from the ballroom. The doors stood open, so he leaned against the door jam, watching his father spin his mother gracefully around the marble floor. 

Draco honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his parents both smiling like that. Not since long before the war. Not just happy but so in love it was nearly obscene. They didn’t dance like this when the ballroom was filled with the cream of wizarding society. This was just for them.

Lucius led Narcissa smoothly from a foxtrot into a Viennese Waltz, her gown flaring around them. They were perfectly matched partners, anticipating each other’s movements and reacting so easily it looked as natural as breathing. Draco had always assumed that just came with twenty-odd years of marriage, but watching them now, he realized there was more to it than just practice. It was trust and confidence in their union, in each other. How the war hadn’t broken them, he had no idea. But with it over, it was almost like they were getting a second chance with each other. 

They came to a stop, and Draco fled before he saw whatever passion was in their eyes was manifested into. 

He didn’t mention what he’d seen in the ballroom, and they didn’t acknowledge if they had seen him lurking in the doorway or not, but for the next week, he couldn’t seem to get it out of his head. He was still thinking about their coordination when he and Astoria mounted their brooms the following weekend, passing the quaffle back and forth to warm up. 

As he and Astoria dipped and spun and swerved around each other in the air, he suddenly realized they had a dance all their own. The same anticipation, reaction, trust and confidence. 

His thoughts strayed to Rose, and Draco’s chest burned. How was he supposed to know what to do? He loved Rose. She was the one that made him feel like his existence made sense, that reminded him not to take things too seriously but still gave up so much because of her sense of responsibility. 

She was stubborn and moody, even more so when she was hungry. She was awful at saying goodbyes and sometimes she would go off on rants about Muggle movies that made no sense to Draco, but he loved her. He loved her ribbons, the yellow that meant she was happy, the electric blue of anxiety and the charcoal grey of guilt. He loved her wide brown eyes he could get lost in and the way she ran her hands through his hair when he’d kiss her just so. 

And damn if it didn’t hurt like hell that he wouldn’t see her for another year. One year. Next year. 

Next year he’d be finishing his Mastery, Astoria would be finishing her internship and getting ready to begin her residency. Next year his father’s law would have been heard before the Wizengamot, and Rose would come back. 

He could wait until next year. 

***

September, 2001

When Rose visited in June, Draco invited Astoria, Daphne, Neville, Pansy, Caroline, Alice, Blaise, and Axios along as well. Neville moaned about his breakup with Hannah, Pansy and Caroline were attached at the lips if not the hip, Alice and Blaise kept sneaking off, much to Daphne's displeasure, and Axios was too busy peppering Astoria with questions about St Mungo’s to really have a conversation with anyone else. 

Rose purposefully put distance between herself and Draco, he noticed. She didn’t lay her head on his shoulder like she once had, or link their arms as they passed through the halls of the manor. If anyone else noticed, they didn’t say anything. By Sunday night he was exasperated with his friends and welcomed their departure coupled with Aurora’s level-headed arrival. 

Aurora had insisted she get to see Rose and help with the translations again. She was made copies with the same duplication charm, and they’d decided to assign ink colors to each of them to help keep their work straight. Draco claimed black, while Rose took Ravenclaw blue and Aurora chose purple. 

Now it was September; he’d sat for his boards and was a Master of Runic Translation. It felt odd, not returning to the castle, instead working from home as a consultant with a firm out of Paris. He worked mainly with the Ministry and Gringotts, but had the occasional private contract as well. 

Saying goodbye to Aurora in June had been been gut wrenching. She wasn’t Rose or Astoria, but she was truly a friend, and Draco got the feeling she felt the same way. She and Eric had been to dinner at the manor a few times over the summer months, and somehow ended up on Narcissa’s shortlist of dinner guests. Draco really needed to thank her for that.

Astoria was finishing her internship, and loving every minute. She found herself at Malfoy Manor in the evenings almost as much as her own home. She hadn’t dated anyone, and hadn’t said a word that made Draco believe that she had changed her mind about him. Even with the distance between himself and Rose, he couldn’t bring himself to make a move on her either. He was happy to have her as his best friend. 

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and Astoria’s day off, so Draco had pushed aside his work for a while, lingering over lunch with her and Narcissa. They were discussing some luncheon being hosted by Cornelia Parkinson and he was watching a peacock strut through the dahlias when a sliver bird with an oversized beak landed on the table. It opened its ridiculously large beak and spoke with a woman’s voice. 

_There has been an attack on The International Confederation of Wizards headquarters in New York City. All able Healers, Residents, and Interns report immediately to St Mungo’s to assist with wounded arriving via emergency portkey_. 

The toucan dissolved, and Astoria looked to Draco, her face white and a name on her lips. He shook his head violently. 

“Go.” Draco swore it was his father’s voice that said it, not his own. It was too steady, too authoritative. His own surely would have been weaker. Narcissa stood slowly, reaching out to him, even as Astoria tore down the hall towards the floo. 

Draco dropped his face into his hands. 

“She didn’t say goodbye again. She said I’ll see you next year… She can’t… It’s not…” 

Draco fell silent as Narcissa wrapped her arms around him like she had when he’d been a child. Until he knew for sure, he wouldn’t make assumptions. He couldn’t. 

Next year. He was going to see her next year.

Next year. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want a visual for Lucius and Narcissa’s dances, I was thinking of two in particular, but from Dancing with the Stars. 
> 
> Foxtrot by Lindsey Stirling and Mark Ballas  
> Viennese Waltz by Frankie Munoz and Whitney Carson


	34. Saying Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tissues may be needed ahead. Proceed with caution.

“... _ attacks in Muggle New York City on the World Trade Center have authorities scrambling for answers. Coordinating magical attacks against the International Confederation of Wizards Headquarters have hundreds wounded from countries across the globe…” _

The wizarding radio blared in the corner. They were in Narcissa’s study, and she felt trapped. It was the war all over again. Magical and Muggle blood was being spilled over the streets of New York City, and they didn’t know if or when Draco would learn of Rose’s fate. 

Draco paced over the rug, his eyes darting wildly from the watercolor on the wall to the window, down to his shoes and back to the bookcase. Narcissa sat primly, her face pale as she gripped her wand, attempting to force her hands to still. She’d forgotten what true helplessness felt like, but she remembered with astounding clarity now. 

Being at the mercy of the Dark Lord, of the Wizengamot, and now watching her son fear for the life of his first love while he was half a world away. 

“... _ government buildings, hospitals and schools are being locked down across the United States, Muggle and magical alike. MACUSA officials are reportedly recommending the same for the U.K., France, Spain, Canada, and a number of others...“ _

“Tori.” The name was a breath, a prayer on his lips. His grey eyes met Narcissa’s blue, and her breath caught as she understood the implications. Hospitals and schools. 

Hogwarts. Ilvermorny. St Mungo’s. 

“You have to stay here, Draco.” 

“But—“ He looked torn, helpless and desperate. 

“You will be in the way. You have to leave this to the Aurors and—“

He fell to his knees, and Narcissa knelt carefully next to him, pulling him into her. 

“Mum it’s everyone I care about. Tori and Neville and Rose and Axios…” 

Narcissa’s heart nearly shattered in her chest. He hadn’t called her mum in nearly twenty years, and now her sweet baby was no longer a baby. He feared for the lives of his friends, and nothing she said could ease the pain he was feeling. 

His body began to shake and she held him while he cried, focusing on him rather than the fear that was eating at her. They would be locking down the Ministry. 

Lucius was there today, and now…

The uncertainty of it all was the worst part. She knew she was running out of time, but was this it? If he couldn’t get word to them, or if the Ministry was attacked… She would be in the same place as Draco. Left to wonder if she would ever see Lucius again. Ever hear his laugh again. How she loved his laugh and she’d been robbed of so many years of it. _They_ had been robbed of so many years of the relationship they thought they’d have. And she hadn’t said goodbye this morning. He’d brushed her cheek with a kiss as she was dictating to a quill about a trivial matter. 

But she couldn’t think like that now. So she clung tighter to her son, there on the rug. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but Draco was curled up on his side with his head in her lap, his breathing slow and even. She stroked his hair, fighting her anxiety with every breath and flex of her fingers. It could have been minutes or hours or days with the radio still talking.

It was dark beyond the window when she heard footsteps, and Draco stirred. He sat up, his wand clenched tightly in his fist. 

Astoria appeared around the corner, looking exhausted. Narcissa watched Draco drink the sight of her in, before springing up from the carpet and embracing her so tightly Narcissa doubted the girl could breathe properly. 

At his touch, she promptly burst into tears. 

“Th-that was aw-awful,” she sobbed, clinging to Draco. Narcissa carefully stood, watching the pair. 

“Astoria, have you been home? Does your family know you’re safe?” Narcissa kept her voice low and gentle, but the girl looked terrified. 

“No, I-I didn’t ev-even—“

“That’s alright dear. Stay with Draco. I’ll let Clarence and Vera know you’re here and safe.” She nodded, so Narcissa left them in her study, and after a quick fire-call to Vera, she retreated to Lucius’ study, wrapping herself in the cashmere throw that smelled of him from so many late nights spent in this chair. His chair. 

She fell asleep in his chair, wrapped up in the scent of him until the sun was rising, and the floo roared to life. Lucius stepped through the emerald flames, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She threw herself into his arms, the fear of the last sixteen hours threatening to overwhelm her. He didn’t say a word, just wrapped his arms around her and pressed his nose into her hair. 

She watched with relief over the next week, then two faded into months with no further attacks. One by one the people Draco had cried for made their way across the floo, and she was careful to acknowledge each of them. Even the Abbott girl, who still looked as if Narcissa and Lucius were going to Avada her from their seats at the dinner table. One woman dying on their dining table was one too many, but Narcissa felt it best to keep that sentiment to herself. 

Astoria and Draco held firm that they were just friends, and Narcissa was content to allow them that. For now. They still had time. 

***

June, 2002

The following June, she expected to see the brunette American girl. She hadn’t expected to see a slightly taller, blonde version trailing them down the hall as she exited the library. 

“Hello, Mother. This is Rose’s sister, Hope.” Draco stopped to introduce them, and the blonde —Hope— nodded politely. 

“It’s nice to meet you, dear. You were at Hogwarts with Draco, weren’t you?” Narcissa watched Rose glance furtively at her sister. 

“Yes, ma’am. In Hufflepuff. I just finished my NEWTs at Ilvermorny though.” Draco raised an eyebrow. Narcissa wondered if she was normally as coarse as her sister. 

She simply nodded, giving them a smile. “Dinner will be a little late tonight, Lucius is at Hogwarts and you know how he and Anthony get to talking. I don’t expect him home before six thirty.” 

“Thank you, Mrs Malfoy,” Rose grinned at her, before marching past her into the library, Draco in tow. Narcissa turned to retire to her office, and found Hope staring at a painting in the hallway. It was a seascape by Ivan Aivazovsky, one of Narcissa’s own favorites.

“Are you an art lover, dear?” She jumped, flushing. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ 

“It’s alright. They deserve to be admired.” Narcissa smiled ruefully at the painting. “Unfortunately more often than not I forget what beauty I have at my fingertips and neglect to enjoy it.” 

The young woman smiled wistfully, and Narcissa waved at the hallway. “Would you like to see more of our collection?” The girl looked hopeful, and then guilty. 

“I don’t want to impose…” Narcissa waved a hand. She was intrigued by the girl. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken with anyone other than Lucius about art, it will be good for me.” Narcissa watched her debate internally and finally nod, her desire to see the artwork winning out over her guilt of taking Narcissa’s time. They spent the next several hours wandering around the manor, chatting about art and art history. Narcissa was impressed by her knowledge but also by her willingness to learn. 

“Have you considered finding a job in art?” Narcissa was trying to be delicate, but she was already getting excited about the plan she was hatching. 

“I'd love to, but I wouldn’t even know how to get my foot in the door, much less find somewhere that would allow…” she stopped, looking away sharply. “Besides. My dad needs me.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is he ill?” Narcissa watched Hope’s head snap up. 

“N-no. He just…” Narcissa struck where it would hurt. 

“I would assume any decent parent would want what’s best for their child, rather than relying on them without significant need. I have several contacts in the art world if you change your mind. Monsieur Laurent at the Louvre is always looking for promising young witches and wizards… He’d be taken with you, I’m sure.” 

She let her words sink in, and saw the moment that the weight hit her. 

“Did you say the Louvre?” Her voice was breathy, and she looked as if she didn’t believe she was even saying the words. 

“Yes, or Monsieur Marcel Dumont, a major art dealer, also in Paris. He dabbles in Muggle and wizarding art, and your blood status would be welcome. His wife is a muggle, as I understand it. Lovely woman, from the brief introduction I received at—“

“You would do that? You don’t even know me.” Hope’s eyes went from hopeful to distrustful in a flash. This poor girl. Narcissa of course would probably get fantastic deals on a few pieces if she played her cards right, but the girl desperately needed away from her father. Lucius had told her enough to make her stomach turn at the thought of this sweet girl returning home to him. 

“I hardly need to know your life’s history to know you have an eye for art, and a few letters is hardly skin off my back, dear.” Narcissa sat back and watched her grapple with herself. 

“Getting you in contact with them wouldn’t be a binding contract either. Just a… How did you say it dear? A foot in the door?” Narcissa pressed a bit harder, and saw her cave.

“If you’re sure it wouldn’t be a problem… I really wouldn’t be able to thank you enough, Mrs Malfoy.” Hope blinked rapidly, and Narcissa smiled. 

“Fantastic. I’ll write to them this evening after dinner and I think…” She heard the floo in Lucius’ study activate. “Yes we should be sitting down shortly. And no need to thank me, dear.” She smiled warmly at the door. “Lucius!” 

He appeared in the doorway, his eyes bright and shoulders squared. She saw the flash of recognition in his eyes, but gave him a warning look anyway. 

“Lucius darling, this is Miss Hope Hollingsworth, dear Rose’s younger sister.” Narcissa lay a hand lightly on the younger witch’s arm, and felt her relax a bit. So she’d won over the American. That was good to know. His eyes flashed, and he raised an eyebrow at “dear Rose,” but he understood well enough. 

“Hello, Miss Hollingsworth.” He kept his distance, but Hope swallowed hard before nodding. 

“Mr Malfoy. It’s nice to see you again.” Lucius’ lip quirked at the blatant lie, but he didn’t comment. 

“Come now. We can talk more about Paris over dinner. Have you ever been?” 

***

Before they left, Rose found Narcissa in her study.

“Mrs Malfoy, I don’t know how to thank you. You got through to Hope better than anyone has, and now she’s talking about Paris and—“ she stopped, swallowing hard. 

“Your family has done so much for mine.” Tears danced in her eyes, and for the first time, Narcissa reached out to her, taking both of her hands. 

“Consider it a goodbye gift… But Draco will need you soon. All I ask is when that time comes, you come back and remind him he’s not alone.” Rose’s forehead creased in confusion, but she nodded. Good girl. 

Narcissa squeezed her hands briefly. She hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to say goodbye to the witch she’d once considered a thorn in her side, but here she was, fighting back tears as the two American girls waved goodbye for the last time. 

***

January, 2003 

“I want to marry her.” Draco’s eyes widened as the words tumbled out of his mouth, and Narcissa smiled over her book. She’d won. 

“Fantastic news, darling. We must tell your father, he owes me a hundred galleons. He was certain you wouldn’t admit it for another six months at least.” 

Draco blinked at her. “I tell you I want to marry Tori and your first reaction is ‘I won a bet?’ Honestly, Mother it's a miracle I tell you anything anymore,” Draco pouted. 

“My next question is when are we going to pick out a ring? Do you need to check the vault or would you like to buy her a new one?” Draco blinked as Narcissa turned a page. 

“I don’t know if it’s that urgent, we’ve only been really dating a few weeks.” 

“If you’re serious enough now, you might as well have the ring on hand, just in case,” she said lightly, not looking up. 

They went to the vault together a week later. She plucked one from a case that she’d been thinking of, holding it up for Draco to examine. It was a solitaire sapphire, the geometric Art Deco style unusual but very pretty. 

“This was your grandmother’s. I think it would suit her nicely.” Draco set down the emerald-cut ruby ring he’d been examining, and laughed. 

“Mother I swear you have the Sight and never told us. This is perfect.” Narcissa smiled gently as he took the ring, nearly giddy with excitement. She felt a twang that she’d never see his wedding day or his children. She was running out of time.

That night, laying next to Lucius in bed, she spoke into the darkness. 

“One day Tori is going to need to be reminded that she was the right choice. If I’m not there, promise me you’ll tell her that we knew, even if he wouldn’t admit it.” 

Lucius sighed. “Cissa we have all the time in the world. Tell her yourself.” 

“I just want one of us to be there when they need us. That’s all.” Narcissa reached out, dragging her fingers over his scar. “We’ve had so much happen, and they’ve got a long road ahead of them.” She ended by lacing her fingers through his, an unusual gesture. 

“We will be, Cissa.” His voice was getting thick with sleep, and she laughed back, hoping that he would be. 

***

May, 2003

Narcissa had been increasingly tired and the headaches were nearing the point of being unbearable. Today though, she felt okay. She didn’t really care for the word, but it summed it up nicely. She felt what she would describe as acceptably well. In other words, she felt  _ okay _ . 

The Parkinson’s were holding their annual spring ball late this year, and she dressed with care. Her ice blue gown and diamond jewelry would be in every major publication in the country, some on the continent, and it would be the last photos taken of her on Lucius’ arm. 

She was out of time. 

The evening was lovely. She may not like Cordelia Parkinson, but she knew how to throw a party. Lucius danced with her twice as much as they would at any other ball at her request, though he still didn’t see it. That was also  _ okay.  _ No need to ruin this for him too. She watch Draco spin Tori around the floor, now a full-fledged healer and an excellent one at that. Draco loves his work, and he loved his witch. That was enough. 

Monsieur Dumont caught her, thanking her for sending him the best student of art restoration he’d had in decades, and she just smiled. She bid goodnight to their hosts and their friends, aware that she was saying goodbye not for the night but for good. She hoped she’d done a sufficiently good job of it. She never had liked leaving things undone. 

As she made her way through the manor, she let her eyes linger over her favorite pieces of art, enjoying them one last time. She closed the door to their room, knowing full well she’d never leave it again. 

That night as she took off her jewels and her pretty gown, she turned to the sweet house elf that had been her companion since the war. 

“Bigsy, thank you for all you do. Will you make me a promise?” 

The house elf turned her luminous blue eyes to her mistress. “Anything, Mistress.”

“Tell Lucius when he’s found the right mistress for you.” The house elf looked confused, but Narcissa just smiled. “You’ll know, that’s my promise.”

That night she fell asleep thinking of Lucius and Draco, and didn’t wake until late the next evening. Lucius was at her side, reading the evening paper. 

“I think you’ve overexerted yourself, Cissa.” He passed her a pepperup potion and a cup of tea. She took both gladly, and fell back asleep shortly thereafter. She was vaguely aware that she must have a fever; her dreams were too vivid and she felt so cold. The next time she woke, it was afternoon, and a healer in blue robes was at her side. 

“Welcome back, Lady Malfoy. How do you feel?” Narcissa blinked against the bright lights. 

“Where are Lucius and Draco?” Her voice was weak and scratchy, and her head pounded. 

“They’re just outside. They’ve been here with you for the last four days. It’s been nearly impossible to get them to eat or sleep.” She nodded tiredly. 

“How long?” She knew by the look on the healers face that he understood. 

“It’s progressing quickly. Maybe a few more days. Once you fall asleep again, I doubt you’ll wake up again.” Another nod. 

“Will you get them, please?” She was glad for once that she was so tired. It meant she was too tired to cry as she said her final goodbyes to the man she loved and the boy she’d defied the Dark Lord to save. 

She drifted off with Draco’s head in her lap and Lucius’ arm around her. Her last thought was that even though she was out of time, they had all the time in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the hardest chapter to write to date, and I knew from the first word it would all be from Narcissa, making her peace with her end. I loved her dearly, so much so that I’m toying with the idea of a few mini fics from her.
> 
> Let me know what you thought. Do you want more Narcissa?


	35. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death comes in threes.

June, 2003

Draco was sitting at his mother’s desk again, staring at the neat stack of letters that had come in, offering condolences from various acquaintances and associates. He resisted the urge to  _ incendio _ the lot and go back to bed. 

Astoria had offered to help, but he felt that his mother would have been disappointed if he acted like he had the summer he’d left Hogwarts. So he dragged himself out of bed, passing the closed door of his parents’ room, and sunk into the chair at his mother’s desk, forgoing breakfast completely. He didn’t think he could stomach it. 

He was still staring at the stack half an hour later when Bigsy, his mother’s house elf, appeared at his elbow. Her eyes were red, and the small elf looked thinner than he’d remembered. With a sinking feeling, he realized the little elf had loved Narcissa. She must be feeling lost without her. 

“Mr Longbottom is calling for Master Draco.” 

He nodded tiredly. “He can come here. Thank you, Bigsy.” The elf disapperated with a pop, and a few minutes later Neville appeared in the doorway. His jaw was set, and he looked around the room, his hazel eyes mournful. 

“Term ended, then?” Draco turned back to the letters. Neville had joined the Hogwarts staff as the Herbology professor the previous fall. He hadn’t said it explicitly, but Draco strongly suspected it had something to do with the 9/11 attacks. He’d stuck it out for nearly a year afterwards, but Draco knew he’d been looking for an out. Pomona Sprout’s retirement had come at an opportune time. 

Neville nodded, still in the doorway. He only looked slightly better than Draco felt, and somehow Draco was the one attempting to coax a conversation out of him. 

“And how was it?” 

“I have an all new appreciation for our professors,” he said after a long pause. “Kids are assholes.” He said it so evenly, Draco almost didn’t believe Neville had said it. 

And then for the first time since the Parkinson’s ball, Draco laughed. Neville’s lips twitched into a small smile, and he leaned against the doorframe. 

“I suppose they are. We certainly were.” Draco’s smile faded almost as quickly as it had come. Neville watched his friend wilt, the guilt on his face plain as day. 

“How’s your father?” 

Draco shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since the funeral. He locked himself in their room when it was over, and hasn’t come out, as far as I can tell.” 

Neville nodded. “And you?”

“I…” Draco stopped, his throat and chest constricting. He shook his head, dropping his eyes back to the letters. 

“It’s alright not to be okay, mate.” Neville’s voice was soft. “The thank you cards can wait.” 

Draco clenched his hands into fists on either side of the stack, fighting the burning in his eyes and chest. He took a deep breath in through his nose, fighting the urge to scream or cry when he caught a whiff of his mother’s perfume that still lingered. 

“Come on, Draco. You need to get out of here, at least for a bit.”

“Where are we going?” Draco asked morosely. He didn’t particularly want to leave, but he didn’t particularly want to stay, either. Everywhere he looked in the manor, he saw his mother. 

“The Broomsticks,” he replied promptly. Ever since hexes started flying at the Leaky Cauldron the summer they’d left Hogwarts, none of them were fond of the place, and tended to stick to Hogsmead simply for the familiarity and relative protection. The hexes had tapered off, though Draco was relatively certain that had more to do with Lucius’ work at the Ministry than it did the public’s opinion on Draco himself.

“Are we really going to start drinking before…” Draco checked his watch. “Ten in the morning?” 

Neville pinned him with a level stare. “Are you really going to decline the offer?”

Draco considered him for a long moment. “No.”

“Great, because I wasn’t going to let you skive off this one. Now I don’t have to hex you.” 

Draco shrugged on his outer robes, and followed Neville through the floo. The comfortable pub was nearly empty this early in the day, and Neville passed through to a private party room, normally reserved for Hogwarts staff parties and the like. 

Inside, the normal suspects were present. Hannah, Pansy, Caroline, Alice, Damian, Blaise, and even Daphne were there. Astoria had been working the night shift at St Mungo’s the night before, and according to Neville, would be there shortly. Axios was on duty, and Alice wasn’t sure where Theo had gotten off to. 

“I’m sure he’ll show up at some point today. He always does,” she laughed. They’d gotten engaged several weeks prior, and despite the heaviness of the occasion, she looked happy. Damian was sulking a bit, but with so much history there, Draco couldn’t blame him. 

Hannah was passing out her newest butterbeer brewing experiment, and Draco took one gratefully. 

Neville lifted his bottle. “To Narcissa Malfoy, who lied to the darkest wizard of our time and brought us all together, whether she knew it or not. May she rest in peace.” The others echoed “Rest in peace,” But Draco’s throat was too tight. He took a drink, and it, like everything else since Narcissa fell ill, simply tasted like ash. 

It was good to be among his friends again though, and he tried to let them support him as only they could. They were pleasantly relaxed, nibbling on sandwiches Hannah brought in when three wizards in royal blue robes came in. Aurors. 

“Miss Alice MacNamara?” Draco narrowed his eyes. It was Harry bloody Potter. The other two weren’t as familiar to him. The Weasel wasn’t present. He watched as Alice stood, confusion clouding her eyes. 

“Yes?” 

“May we speak with you outside, please?” Alice looked around at her friends, uncertain. Neville nodded encouragingly, but shared a look with Potter. She accompanied Potter and a witch with short, dark hair and a square jaw outside. A dark-skinned man that vaguely reminded Draco of Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt remained inside the door. And then from the hall came a wailing cry. 

Caroline and Damian were the first to the door, but were held back by the Auror. Neville approached the door, eyes flashing. 

“What the hell, Garrick? What’s going on?” The auror looked uncomfortable, but was saved from answering when the door flew back open, and Alice tumbled in, sobbing.

“They said Theo’s dead. They have to be wrong!” She was screaming it over and over, falling to her knees and immediately being wrapped in the arms of Caroline and Damian. Blaise’s mouth dropped open, and he looked to Draco. 

Neville was furious now, demanding answers from the three Aurors. Potter dragged him into the hall, and all Draco could do was grip the table in front of him and watch his friends look around, hoping for someone to laugh and say it was a joke. It had to be some awful joke. 

Neville came back in looking pale. “Theo’s dead. Axios is at St Mungo’s with a cursed wound… They don’t…” his voice broke. “They don’t know what will happen to him.” 

“What happened?” Pansy looked to be on the verge of tears. 

Neville swallowed hard, and avoiding Draco’s eyes, said quietly, “Death Eaters.” 

***

The funeral was beautiful. Axios was there, wincing when he took too deep of a breath, and without his easy smile. Alice sat stoically before the casket, flanked by Caroline, Pansy, Blaise, Daphne, Neville, and Draco. What should have been their wedding party. 

The Nott family crest graced the top of the casket, and Blaise gave a lovely eulogy. Afterwards, they congregated at Blaise’s new venture, a small restaurant tucked away in Muggle London. They sat mostly in silence, until Daphne threw back a double shot of tenta-quila and said, “Remember that summer Theo told us he was getting a tattoo over his back? The idiot.” 

Pansy tossed one back. “Remember the time he told Severus his father would hear about this?” 

“That was Draco,” Blaise snickered. Draco swallowed his own shot and shook his head. “Nope, Theo tried it on him fourth year. It turned out about as well as you’d think.” Even Alice laughed.

Astoria giggled from beside him. “Remember the time he was nearly caught with his trousers ‘round his ankles by McGongall?” 

Caroline choked on her own drink. “Please tell me it was with someone good.” 

“Nah, it was a dare from another green asshole.” Draco froze, not believing his ears; but he knew that accent. The empty chair next to him was suddenly filled, and Rose leaned across the table for the bottle. “It was delightful, though. I’ll never forget watching him waddle down the third-floor corridor in his skivvies. Wasn’t it Flitwick that caught him?” 

Neville snorted. “I wish. It was Sprout. She talked about it for weeks.” 

They continued to swap stories about Theo until late in the night. They were all drunk and somehow decided that Malfoy Manor was the place to be, so they found themselves back in the ballroom, staring up at the painted ceiling. 

A clock somewhere chimed three, and Draco staggered up.

“Where are you going?” Alice seemed to be the only other one still awake. 

“Walk ‘round the gardens. Coming?” 

She scrambled up, her black dress rumpled and wrinkled, her eyes red and puffy. He held out his arm, and she took it, as if it was a normal summer evening stroll. They walked in companionable silence. He and Alice had never been the closest of friends, but in their mutual misery, they found solace. They stopped at a bench in the middle of the rose bushes, the marble cool even in the warm summer air, and looked over the grounds of the manor. 

“I keep hoping I’ll wake up and this will just be a bad dream,” Alice whispered. “I swear he’s going to pop ‘round my office or I’ll find a note telling me he’s off with you lot.” Draco felt like there was a gaping wound in his chest. In less than a month, he’d lost his mother and one of his closest friends. 

“I swear I still hear Mother’s heels coming down the hallways,” he admitted. Alice lay her head against his shoulder, and there they sat until the sun began to rise behind them. 

“Can we do this again?” Alice seemed embarrassed to even ask, but Draco nodded. 

“Please.” His voice broke, and he felt the sleeve of his shirt grow damp from her tears, and she nodded as well, understanding that nobody else really understood. 

***

Rose stayed for a week. A week in which she managed to get Draco and Astoria to admit they loved each other, Lucius to vacate his room for more than five minutes, and Neville to finally get a flat of his own. 

The last night before she returned to the US, she came into Draco’s room with two glasses and a bottle of elf-made wine. 

“For old time’s sake?” She smiled as Draco shuffled over in bed, his back to the headboard.

“I swear to Salazar if you leave in the morning without telling me goodbye, I’m never speaking to you again,” he muttered, accepting a glass. 

“Do you know why I did that?” Rose settled back against the headboard, looking unseeingly across Draco’s room. 

“If I did, it might have hurt less.”

“I’ve always been afraid of goodbyes.” Rose took a sip of the wine, refusing to look at Draco.”I was so afraid if I said goodbye to you, it would mean for good. I wasn’t prepared for that. Now I think  _ not  _ saying goodbye is worse.” 

Draco was quiet, thinking of Theo. He’d parted ways with a wave and a “see you soon,” and now Draco felt as if he’d never have closure. At the very least, he’d gotten to say the words to Narcissa. 

“It was your mom, that got me to really think about it.” Draco looked up, startled. 

“She said her goodbye to me last summer, with Hope. I don’t know how she knew, but when I got your letter, I wasn’t surprised.” She smoothed her hand over the duvet, her eyes downcast. “I really liked her. And not just because what she did for Hope. She was the epitome of a really classy lady… Every time I saw her I wished I could be more like her.” 

Draco laughed, picturing Rose done up like Narcissa, quiet acquiescence and sharp wit dancing a fine line. “I like you just as you are. You don’t need to be more like Mother.” 

She smiled, but there was something behind it. 

“I miss your ribbons, though. I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.” Her brown hair was falling in curls over her shoulders, the shortest he’d ever seen it. She spied his fishing, and with a roll of her eyes, waved her wand, a slate-grey ribbon falling free from the tip. It wasn’t the charcoal grey of guilt, or the blue of sadness. It was…

“Regret.” She nodded, looking away. 

“Your mom knew she was dying, and she asked me to come back when you needed me. I didn’t know it then, but somehow she knew that I would need you at the same time, just as badly. You were always the strong one. I think you get it from her.

“My dad died. That’s why I missed her funeral. And Theo’s. I was tying up the sale of his house and getting rid of his possessions, not that there was anything of any value. Hope didn’t even come home from Paris, but I think that was better for her. I couldn’t ask Mom to do it… So I did it alone.” Draco sucked in a breath. 

“He drank himself to death. I didn’t claim his body, he didn’t deserve it… I’m still so angry at him. For what he did to us. The entire time I was dealing with his affairs I couldn’t stop thinking about your parents. Your dad saved me and Mom, and your mom saved Hope. Your family is built of strong people that have been to hell and back…” 

Draco swallowed hard, thinking of the years they’d lived with the Dark Lord, the years since that they’d been rebuilding their name. Was that strength? He’d always thought it was merely survival. 

“If I was stronger, like your mom was, maybe I wouldn’t have left. Maybe I wouldn’t crawl back here once a year because I can’t allow myself more than that, and maybe I wouldn’t j _ ust now _ be admitting to my best friend, who is practically engaged to the perfect woman, that I love him, and I never stopped.” 

Draco’s breath froze in his chest, and Rose’s ragged breathing told him she was crying. 

“Rose…”

“Please don’t say anything. Tori is perfect. I shouldn’t have said any of that. Draco I’m sorry.”

He was too stunned to speak. She was sorry? 

“You know what? This was a bad idea. I’m going to go back to the guest room, and I’ll be gone early tomorrow. Goodbye, Draco.” She scrambled from the bed, and he swore as she tore from the room. He vanished the mostly-full glass in his hand and followed her to the room down the hall. He knocked on the door. 

“Rose. Rose, let me in.” He tried the handle, and it opened easily. 

The rooms were laid out much as his own were, but instead of the grey, silver, and cream palate, these were done in soft pinks and golds. He’d jokingly called it the princess suite when his mother had been redecorating. Now he thought of it as the Rose Room. It’s where she stayed each time she came to visit, and it just... Suited her. 

The bed was still made, but the light in the bathroom was spilling out under the door. He knocked on the door lightly. No answer. He knocked again, slightly louder. 

“Rosie… Please talk to me.” 

“I hate that you’re the only one that can call me that without getting hexed,” came the answer from the other side of the door. Draco snickered. 

“I’m going to be calling you Rosie until the day I die, so it’s probably for the best. Now get your arse out here so we can talk. It’s been nearly five years, you don’t get to hide now.” 

The lock clicked, and she swung it open, looking ashamed. He didn’t say a word, just pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head. They fit, just as they always had. Her hair smelled sweet, but not the floral scent of their school days. Now it was deeper and more complex. Much like their relationship now was. 

“I think when it all comes down to it, we made the right choices, Rosie. Your mum and Hope are safe, and we… We still have each other. It’s not the same, but I have no doubt that one day we’re both going to look back and think that there was some good in our goodbye. Goodbye to the possibility of us ever being what we were again, but never a goodbye to our friendship. You’re going to find some nice American bloke and get married and have babies, and I’ll be Uncle Draco.” She laughed against his chest.

“I came to terms with it all because the end of us is an end of a chapter, not the end of our story."

“Poetic prat,” she sniffed. “But I think that’s the closure I needed. I love you, you obstinate green asshole.” 

“I love you too, you infuriating know-it-all.” 

***

She left the next morning, after waking Draco to tell him goodbye. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are my lifeblood! Do you think they got the closure they needed, or is it going to come back and haunt them?


	36. Moving On

January, 2004

Draco looked up from his work to find Astoria in the doorway. His eyes swept over her, and he felt a familiar warmth in his chest. He opened his arms, and she came to stand next to him, draping an arm over his shoulders. Leaning into her, he wondered for a moment if it was time to propose.

He quickly shot the idea down. It was too soon after Narcissa’s death. He wasn’t ready to be thrown into wedding planning without her. It felt as if he’d never be ready to do anything without her. He’d essentially moved into her office, and had yet to change a thing. He couldn’t bring himself to change what Narcissa had done. 

“I saw Neville today. He wanted us to go out for drinks Friday with Hannah and Aurora. He said he’d ask Axios and maybe Pansy too.” Astoria carded her fingers through his hair, the white-blond locks the longest they’d ever been; nowhere near as long as Lucius’, but nearing his chin now. “Do you think Alice would…” She trailed off, and Draco shook his head. 

“She’s not ready for that.” Alice and Draco had taken to walking several times a week. Sometimes it was evenings in the gardens at the Manor, sometimes it was around London on her lunch break at the Ministry. They rarely talked, preferring to walk in companionable silence. He knew, however, how angry she still was.

Theo had been attacked leaving Gringotts to come to their gathering in Hogsmead. Axios and his partner, an older war veteran named Grant Price, had been on patrol in Diagon Alley. Two Death Eaters, widely believed to be Rodolphus Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov, attacked Theo for being a “blood traitor.” Lestrange had gutted Theo with a blade that was cursed to resist healing magic, and Theo had no chance of surviving. He’d then turned it on Axios, managing to slice down his ribs before Price had thrown him off with a shield charm, and the two Death Eaters had aparated away. 

It came to light several months later, that the Ministry had known the remaining Death Eaters were targeting those they deemed to be traitors. Lucius and Draco were at the top of their list, but much more careful with their movements. Alice had been furious that they knew, and didn’t warn Theo. She’d also felt guilty over Axios’ injury. 

Astoria had been at St Mungo’s when he’d been brought in, working in the Emergency Department. They’d worked frantically on him for hours, trying to get the bleeding to stop and the wound to close. They’d managed, in the end. She said it was the second worst day she’d ever had at St Mungos, coming in only after the attacks on the ICW headquarters. Viv, Axios’ old school flame, had also been on duty. Astoria said she could still hear her crying for him, and his barely conscious pleadings for “Livvy,” his nickname for the witch. 

Axios had returned to his work as an Auror a few weeks later, but everyone agreed he wasn’t quite the same. Draco had been meaning to invite him over for a game of chess, and this would be the perfect opportunity to do so.

“Okay. I think it will just be good to see them. It’s been a while since we’ve seen everyone… Maybe while we’re there we can plan a big party for the summer.” Astoria was still playing with his hair, and Draco just nodded. Maybe it was time.

Friday came, and Draco was in a rotten mood after a meeting with a potential client went wrong, and now he was standing in the frigid air of a Scottish winter night, waiting for Neville and Aurora to get down the bloody hill from the castle. To his surprise though, there were three figures approaching. The tallest was Neville, and the woman was obviously Aurora. The third was… 

“Axios!” Astoria waved. 

“Bloody hell, he looks awful,” Draco murmured. The burly man had lost weight, and his face looked gaunt, almost skeletal. His dark, curly hair was longer than even Draco’s, the curls hanging lank, not full and glossy like they once were. Draco was sharply reminded of his own haggard appearance the year he’d been ordered to kill Dumbledore. He was relatively certain that when the auror got close enough, his dark eyes would be just as haunted as Draco’s had been. 

“He’s been having a rough go of it, between what happened with Theo, and Viv is sweet on that new healer,” Astoria whispered back. 

The trio met the pair, and they continued into Hogsmead proper, sighing in relief when they stepped into the warmth of the Three Broomsticks. They were positioning themselves around a table when Hannah appeared with drinks, pausing to kiss Neville soundly. Axios, whose eyes were as haunted as Draco predicted, fumbled with his gloves to avoid seeing the PDA. He recognized the avoidance maneuver as one he himself had employed after Rose left. 

“So who’s going to share the good news?” Neville looked between Aurora and Axios, and Draco, Astoria, and Hannah all looked between themselves, confused. Aurora indicated Axios, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

“Well?” Astoria leaned forward, looking worried, despite Neville’s announcement of good news.

“I’ll be the new Defense professor starting next term,” he announced, a glimmer of his old self sparkling through for a moment. Hannah and Astoria squeaked in excitement, and Draco smirked, offering his hand to the man across from him. Axios took it, his easy smile appearing briefly.

“Good luck. You’ll be regretting moving on from the Aurors after a week,” Draco joked, and Axios shook his head. 

“I talked to Robards. I’ll stay on as a consultant and liaison with Hogwarts during the year. Summer holidays I’ll still be a regular old auror.” 

Aurora raised her glass. “To Professor Fairview!” They echoed her toast, and Axios actually laughed.

“That’s going to be so bloody weird.” Draco was inclined to agree, but he seemed excited about the prospect. It would be good for the man. 

The rest of the evening was pleasant, and Draco managed to convince Axios to bring his father to the manor for a round or two of chess Sunday afternoon. Returning to the Manor, Draco approached his father’s study, urging Astoria to head to bed without him.

After Narcissa’s death, Lucius had not come out of their bedroom for nearly a month. It was only when Rose coaxed him out with several well placed questions on Wizarding Law that he’d attended dinner at all. Since then, he’d done the bare minimum. He no longer attended to business at the Ministry, most of his business with Gringotts was done via owl post. Today he’d attended a meeting for the Hogwarts School Board of Governors, but Draco suspected that Minerva McGonagall would have simply brought the meeting to him if he hadn’t shown. 

Draco expected to find him with a tumbler of firewhiskey, staring into the depths of the fire once again. Instead, Lucius was at his desk, several large law books scattered around him laying open as he scribbled on a sheet of parchment. 

Draco poured himself a drink, and sank into one of the large wingback chairs next to the fire. Lucius didn’t acknowledge him, but then he didn’t have to. When Lucius finished his thought, he joined Draco before the fire. 

“Axios Fairview is taking on the Defense position next year, but I suppose you already knew that.” Draco spoke more to the fireplace than to his father. 

“I did.” 

“He’s coming for chess Sunday afternoon. I told him to bring Anthony, as well.” Draco expected a fight from Lucius, but he just nodded agreeably. 

“What is all that?” Draco waved towards his desk, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“New law I’d like to pass. There was a rather inspiring little witch at the board meeting today, and I need something to occupy myself with.” Draco contemplated his father out of the corner of his eye. 

He’d lost weight, since Narcissa’s death. Not as drastically as Axios, but enough. The cloud of despair that had hung around him like a cloud for the last six months seemed to be lifting. Who was this witch? Draco was glad his father was functional again, but could he really be moving on? 

No, he most certainly was not moving on. He was just happy to be out of the house and have something to focus on, Draco decided several moments later. This was good. This was progress. But progress was not moving on from Mother. 

***

August 29, 2004

“How are you feeling about it?” Draco reclined in his chair, looking over the familiar chess board at his friend. Axios looked every bit as gaunt and thin as he had in January, but the light in his eyes was returning, but by bit. They hadn’t missed a Sunday chess match since then, and neither had Lucius and Anthony. Draco thought it was doing all four of them good, and he didn’t relish the thought of the day the matches came to an end. 

“I think I’m fine and then I think of all the shit we did to our professors and I panic a bit,” he snorted. “It doesn’t help that we’re not so much older than the seventh years. I don’t think some of them will have much, if any respect for someone like me.”

“Neville seems to handle them just fine,” Draco observed, ordering his knight forward. 

“Severus was younger than you when he started,” Lucius chimed in from the other side of the Fairview’s airy sitting room. 

“Snape was a scary sonofabitch,” Axios said under his breath, just loud enough for Draco to hear. Draco snorted. 

“Have you seen Viv lately? I saw her last week when I took Tori lunch at Mungo’s,” Draco attempted lightly. 

“We still write regularly, but I haven’t seen her since the last time I was injured on duty. I don’t think she wants to see me,” he admitted, his expression growing darker. 

“Maybe it’s time to move on. Find a witch without all the history,” Draco suggested. 

“Right because you and Tori dont have any of that,” he snorted. He urged his bishop forward, leaving his queen at risk. 

“I’m just saying it might be good for you.” Draco watched his friend deflate. 

“Trust me, I’ve tried,” he said miserably. “It doesn’t matter. I’d rather be single for the rest of my life than settle… None of them hold a candle to her.” 

Draco caught the despair in Lucius’ eyes and quickly changed the subject. It would seem that neither of them were willing to move on yet.    
  


***   
  


October 31, 2004

“Rose, what the hell are you on about,” Draco drawled from where he was sprawled on the sofa of his study, as Rose sat at his desk. 

“Your dad. Do you think he’s interested in someone?” She didn’t even bother looking up to see Draco’s exasperated glare. 

“No, definitely not. I don’t think he’ll ever get over Mother. You saw him last night. Her name comes up and he shuts down!” 

“But he seemed better than the last time I was here.” Rose tapped the desktop with her pencil. “Twelve letters for condition, sixth letter is an ’m.”

Draco huffed. “It’s been more than a year. Circumstance.” She filled it in, biting her lip. 

“Yes, it’s been more than a year and you’re still using it as an excuse not to propose, but your dad should be just fine?” Draco scowled at her. 

“I didn’t say he should be fine. I said he’s  _ better _ . And proposing… Its not the right time. Blaise finally won Daph over and I know he’s proposing soon. We don’t have any pressure or rush with Vera planning their wedding…”

“And what are you not saying?” Rose still hadn’t looked up from her crossword. Damn her. Draco’s throat got tight, and he stared at the watercolor on the wall. It had been one of Narcissa’s favorites. 

“I never thought what I’d do without her,” he finally whispered. “Wedding, marriage, babies… I always just thought of her there for it.” 

Rose nodded. “I know. But she’s not… And if you’re not careful, Tori’s going to move on.” 

Draco scoffed. Rose finally looked up, an eyebrow raised, and Draco felt the blood drain from his face. 

“You don’t think… She wouldn’t… Would she?” 

Rose tossed her pencil down. “I’m not the one you need to ask. Now come on. I have to get ready for this stupid ball and my hair is getting ridiculous again. It was longer, down to the middle of her back again, but still not as long as it had been in school. 

“Speaking of ridiculous hair,” she eyed Draco’s, not just above his shoulders. “I like it better short. So does Tori. It’s time to move on.” 

She swept out and down the hall before Draco could glare at her properly. 

***

January, 2005

Astoria’s eyes fluttered open, the evening light filtering in through the curtains. Draco watched her stretch and yawn, before setting back down into the pillowy depths of the duvet. 

“Morning,” she smiled sleepily up at him. 

“Good morning, love.” He leaned down and kissed her gently. 

“What are you doing here?” She eyed Draco as he laid back into her lavender sheets. 

“I thought I’d get a jump start on your weekend. I wanted to take you to a celebratory dinner.” He flicked a lock of hair from her face, and she smiled. “No more overnight shifts deserves a nice night out, I think. So get up, get dressed, we have reservations in an hour.” 

An hour and a half later, they were seated in one of Wizarding London’s nicest restaurants. Draco was doing his best to bring up his questions without giving her the wrong idea. Finally he saw his opening while taking about Blaise and Daphne’s upcoming nuptials. 

“Your mother’s going to be unbearable… So I was thinking, why don’t you just move in with me?” He was trying not to look too eager or desperate, but Rose’s words had been eating at him. She saw right through him. 

“Did Rose put you up to this? Or was it Pansy?” 

Pansy had also been pressing him to take the next step with Astoria, but neither one of them mentioned asking her to move in, so he answered firmly in the negative. 

“No. Is it a crime to want full access to my girlfriend?” She rolled her eyes, knowing full well he already had all the access he wanted. Vera threw a fit if she went more than a week without seeing him for tea or dinner. She narrowed her eyes at him, and took his hand. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Draco. You know that, right?” Once again her intuition hit the nail on the head. “I love you. It’s not dependent on keeping up with Blaise and Daphne, or whoever else it is the  _ Prophet  _ is putting us against this time.” Draco squeezed her hand. 

“I don’t care what the  _ Prophet  _ is saying. I want to wake up to that smile and your pretty blue eyes every morning.” The smile he loved so much showed, and she shook her head. 

“Alright. Let’s do it.” Draco grinned at her acceptance. 

“Good. The house elves are already moving your things to my rooms at the manor.” She laughed. 

“I should have known when you asked about sheets for your bed.” Her smile got even bigger. 

“One thing Rose did put me onto though…” Draco tapped his fingers on the table, and Astoria looked worried. 

“Do you really like my hair shorter?” 

She immediately looked guilty, and he shook his head. “That answers that. Time to move on then.” 


	37. Deserving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose is back, and Draco comes to a conclusion.

October 31, 2005

“Oh thank Merlin. I was afraid I was going to come back and it would be even longer.” 

Draco snorted. “No ‘Hello, I missed you,’ or ‘thanks for saving me from a French orgy.’ You just had to go straight for the hair.” He ran his hand through the short locks, having reverted back to the shorter style of his last year at Hogwarts, much to Astoria’s delight. Rose smiled up at him from where she’d stepped out of the floo moments before. 

“Hi Tori! You look amazing, I’ve missed you. Thank you so much for saving me from my sister,” she grinned as she gave the taller witch a hug. Draco huffed, but he couldn’t really be mad at her when she threw her arms around him next. 

“I did miss you,” she whispered, and he grinned. 

“You’re just in time for the ball, too!” Tori said, pulling them both through the entryway and up the stairs. “I think this is the first time the whole gang will be around since…” She paused, and Draco, sensing her hesitation to talk about the day Theo died, jumped in.

“They’re all going, and we’re all coming back here for the afterparty. Even Axios, Nev, and Hannah will be here. No idea how they got McGonagall to agree…” He couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. He’d been looking forward to this visit since they started planning back in April. Having Rose show up somewhat unexpectedly was just the icing on the cake. 

“Afterparty? Is your dad--” 

“Lucius has actually been doing loads better lately. He’s been working on some legislation, and I think it’s keeping him busy. He was downright cheerful at breakfast yesterday, though that may have been because he was looking forward to chess with Anthony Fairview,” Astoria informed her.

“I’m always cheerful, Astoria.” The two witches hanging on each of Draco’s arms jumped at Lucius’ sudden appearance. Contrary to his words, he sported a severe expression and a bored tone. “Though I do believe Narcissa had the honor of being labeled terrifying, and I’m rather disappointed I’ve only managed cheerful.” Draco managed to smother his smile, but Rose burst out laughing at Astoria’s face. She looked like she wanted to sink through the oriental. Draco jumped in to save Astoria from Lucius.

“Tori, have I ever told you about the time Rose here told Severus’ portrait that she thought he’d be sexier?” Draco grinned deviously

Astoria’s embarrassment and Lucius’ smug amusement both gave way to looks of shock, and Rose just laughed even harder. She deserved it. 

“I said I thought he would sound sexier, at least get it right.” She grinned at the two speechless Slytherins. Lucius seemed to recover first, shrugging carelessly, his disinterested expression in stark contrast to the shock from a moment before. Astoria was blinking rapidly at her. “Oh come on, you know they all talked about it. Remember that Gryffindor chick that was friends with Nev? She gave out like half a dozen detentions one day because some girls wouldn’t shut up about his voice in potions.” 

“Granger?” Draco tried to think back to the last year of potion’s class. Granger had been the only Gryffindor girl in the class. The others were in the other NEWT period.

“The one with the curly hair?” Definitely Granger, but Astoria nodded, still speechless. 

Lucius surprised them all by laughing. A full, shake-your-soul kind of laugh that Draco hadn’t heard since Narcissa’s death. He watched his father laughing in the middle of the hallway, Rose and Astoria looking on with wide smiles. 

“I am never letting Severus live this one down,” he chuckled as he disappeared into his study, the echos of his laughter still reverberating around the marble space. 

“I swear he likes you better than me some days,” Draco complained to the two witches as they worked their way down the hall towards their bedrooms. 

“Not hard to see why,” Astoria quipped, winking at Rose. “We’re prettier than you are.” His answering scowl had both girls stretching up to kiss his cheeks. 

***

Several hours later, the three were gathered around the edge of the Greengrass Manor ballroom, watching various couples spin and twirl around the dance floor. Draco caught flashes of Alice and Damian, Daphne and Blaise, Hannah and Neville, Pansy, Caroline, and even Axios in his navy blue Auror’s dress robes. Even after all this time he still caught himself looking for Theo, but he was determined for this to be a good night. 

They were a few glasses of champagne in, and Draco watched as Lucius approached, offering his hand to Astoria. He’d only come for appearances’ sake, and this was the first dance he’d asked for. With Astoria occupied, he offered his own hand to Rose. She rolled her eyes but took his hand anyway, allowing herself to be led onto the floor. 

It was like he’d been yanked back to eighth year at Hogwarts. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine they were back in the Hufflepuff common room or dancing around their classroom the night of his Mastery celebration. She’d even conjured a ribbon to loop through the complex hairdo Astoria had insisted on. Pale, butter yellow. She was content. 

“I’ve missed you, Rosie.” She still smelled like roses, still fit into his arms like a missing puzzle piece. He couldn’t help but wonder how things would have turned out differently if she’d stayed after Hogwarts. 

She didn’t answer him, just moved her hand up from his shoulder to his neck. When he opened his eyes, she had a devious smile, and quickly swiped her thumb up the back of his neck so a shiver shot up his spine. 

He growled and tickled her sides, her shrieks of laughter earning a glare from Lucius, who was leading Astoria through a waltz a few feet away. Draco wasn’t foolish enough to believe his innocent expression would fool his father, so he turned them away. Neville and Hannah were on their other side, snickering at their juvenile display. Rose was practically doubled over in his arms, much to the disapproval of several of the older witches and wizards around them. Draco couldn’t help but laugh, remembering the scandalized looks of his much younger schoolmates, who had initially though he was hurting her. 

Pansy was dancing with Dan Harlow across the way, and his laugh died in his throat when he saw a pair of Aurors approach them on the dancefloor. Not again. Not here. But it was Dan they were leading off the floor. He’d been a Slytherin a few years ahead of Draco; they’d played quidditch together for several years. Pansy’s eyes were wide, and whispers erupted before she made it off the floor. Draco tugged at Rose, who hadn’t seen the exchange. 

“Pans! What happened?” Pansy looked as if she was going to be sick. Draco released Rose in favor of the other girl, leading her to a chair and snapping at a passing house-elf to bring a glass of water. 

“Remember Dan’s little sister?” Pansy’s voice was shaking.

“Hazel?” Rose took the seat next to Pansy, blocking her from the prying eyes around them. “She used to hang out with Axios and Viv.” Pansy nodded.

“She was dating Orson Macnair. He killed her an hour ago…” Draco felt the blood drain from his face. Orson Macnair had been the son of Death Eater Walden Macnair. There was going to be fallout. 

“Pans, let’s get you back to my place. Rose, go tell Father and Tori they need to leave. Now. Round up the others if you can.” 

Rose immediately did as Draco told her, and he caught a glimpse of her hand closing around Lucius’ arm. Draco ushered Pansy to the floo, his arm firmly around his friend. He caught sight of Alice and Damian talking in a corner, and his stomach felt as if it was suddenly filled with rocks. 

“Alice! Party’s over, lets go.” He was hoping she would follow without any question, and was relieved when Damian tugged her along. He and Pansy went through the floo first, Alice and Damian close on their heels. “Bigsy!” Draco called for the house elf even as he led the small group into the closest drawing room. 

The elf appeared at his elbow, wringing her hands. “Yes Master Draco?” 

“We need brandy, and everyone through that floo in the next hour needs to be sent here. If any aurors besides Axios Fairview show up, Father or I need to be told immediately.” Her blue eyes got wide, but she disapperated quickly and without question. 

“Draco, what’s going on?” Alice’s voice was tinged with panic. He loathed being the one to share this kind of news, but they all deserved to know. 

“Wait til everyone else is here.” He was vaguely aware of Pansy holding his hand in a death grip. She didn’t let go until he got up to pour her a brandy from the tray Bigsy brought. Damian got up and poured one for himself and Alice, and was sitting just down beside her when Lucius strode through on the heels of Neville and Hannah, with Astoria trailing behind him. Neville and Astoria looked worried, while Hannah was pale and Lucius looked positively murderous. 

Rose, Caroline, Axios, Blaise and Daphne were still missing. Blaise and Daphne were probably being held captive by Vera, so Draco wasn’t too worried about them. Axios was probably on his way to Vivienne’s. Caroline was a half-blood and probably fine, but Rose… Astoria caught him looking at the door, and perched on the arm of his chair, a restraining hand on his shoulder. 

Not even five minutes later, Caroline and Rose appeared, looking slightly disheveled and out of breath. Draco, Astoria, and Pansy all sighed in relief. The others looked around, most of their eyes landing on Pansy and Draco. Lucius was facing the window, his back straight and his shoulders squared. 

“Hazel Harlow is dead. Orson Macnair killed her,” Pansy whispered to the room. The following silence was deafening. 

“But she’s a pureblood,” Caroline cried, her face crumpling.

“So was Theo,” Alice hissed, wrenching her hand away from Damian, very suddenly crossing the room, as if she was trying to get as far away from her old flame as possible without leaving the room. 

“We don’t know that it has anything to do with her blood-status,” Neville said evenly.

“We don’t know that it doesn’t!” Hannah said angrily. 

“It doesn’t matter why. She didn’t deserve that, no matter what,” Astoria shot back at them. Draco leaned into Astoria’s side, the overwhelming dread he felt drowning out the others’ chatter, until he felt a wave of icy cold air. Lucius was still staring out of the window, frost gathering at the corners of the glass. Before Draco could say anything, Rose approached him, saying something in a low voice that Draco couldn’t make out. 

Abruptly, Lucius turned in a swirl of deep green dress robes and strode from the room, the door slamming behind him. His departure had taken him right between Hannah and where Neville was pouring them glasses of brandy. Hannah had recoiled and gone even more pale, and Neville shuddered visibly. The room warmed significantly with Lucius’ exit, and Alice dissolved into tears. 

“Oh bloody hell,” Astoria hissed, leaving Draco in favor of the crying witch. 

“We need more alcohol,” Pansy groaned, her face in her hands. Draco was inclined to agree, and he called for Bigsy again. He sent her to raid the wine cellar and liquor stores, and as soon as she returned, they each picked a bottle (or in Alice’s case, two). 

“Drinking game?” Rose took a bottle of firewhiskey, and took a hearty slug. 

“Let me get drunk first,” Damian said between swigs of tenta-quila. 

Pansy nodded in agreement, drinking her elf-made wine straight from the bottle. Draco was starting to feel the buzz from his own firewhiskey when the door opened, and a very morose-looking Axios stumbled through the door. 

The last year at Hogwarts had done him good. He’d gained some healthy weight back, the dark bruises beneath his eyes faded, and he’d cut his curls short. Earlier in the evening his eyes had been sparkling, his smile easy again. Now, he looked just as haunted as he had the night he’d announced his new position at the school. The room went quiet, all eyes on the man. He just shook his head, taking a bottle of firewhiskey from Neville and sitting on the floor, his legs splayed out in front of him. 

Rose tossed back another shot, and pulled Caroline to her feet. “Okay. Enough of this. We’re going to drink, we’re going to dance, and we’re going to have the kind of evening that Hazel would have disapproved of.” Axios barked a laugh that could have been half a sob, and took another long pull from the bottle. Astoria flicked on a radio, and Rose offered a hand to Axios. He took it, and the action seemed to tell the rest of them that it was okay to join them.

Hannah and Alice started singing along to a Weird Sisters song, while Damian and Pansy started dancing alongside Rose and Axios. Neville snagged Astoria, so Draco grinned at Caroline, who giggled around the neck of a bottle of tenta-quila. They joined the dancing, pushing the furniture out of the way as they went. 

The drunker they got, the louder they got, and Draco watched in amusement as Hannah and Neville seemed to forget they were in plain view of the rest of them, their hands disappearing beneath each other’s robes. They weren’t the only ones, though. Pansy and Caroline were making eyes at each other, and Draco himself had his hands very firmly planted on Astoria’s arse. Daphne and Blaise stumbled in around one, and immediately joined the fun, grabbing bottles of their own. With their appearance, Draco almost missed Rose slipping out of the door, Axios right behind her. 

He expected a roar of jealousy, or a burn of anger, but he was surprised to find that he felt neither. If anything, he was ready to cheer for them both. As far as he knew, Rose hadn’t dated anyone since him, and Axios really needed to get over the Beaulieu girl. They’d be good for eachother. Pleased, he made it his night’s ambition to get Astoria to make as many little noises as he could without her breeding taking over to stop him. 

He wasn’t entirely sure when Axios and Rose had reappeared, or what time it was, but he was relatively certain he’d finished most of the bottle of Ogden’s Best on his own by the time they were all laying in a heap on the drawing room floor. His head was in Astoria’s lap, and Rose’s arm was draped over his chest, but her head was resting on Axios’ thigh. Draco was only vaguely aware of where the rest of them had ended up, and he didn’t much care. 

“The war s’bosed to b’ovrrr,” Alice slurred from somewhere behind Astoria. 

“Ill nevr b’ovrrr,” Hannah slurred back sadly, and Draco could see Neville petting her hair gently from his spot next to Astoria. 

“Someday, love.” Axios sounded far too sober for as much firewhiskey he’d consumed, and Draco could see his dejected expression as he stared at the ceiling, as if he was seeing something else completely. 

Rose met Draco’s eyes, and he reached up, threading his fingers through hers. She squeezed his hand, and Draco reached up with his free hand, capturing Astoria’s. He fell asleep like that, holding tight to the two witches. There wasn’t supposed to be more death. Halloween was supposed to be fun. Now… Now it would always be tainted. 

***

“Am I going to get left for Fairview next year?” Draco was lounging across the sofa in the Rose Rooms the next afternoon, his head still aching even after three sobering solutions. He was going to be belching mint for a month. 

Rose was similarly afflicted, her arm thrown over her eyes as if the mere thought of sitting up enough to make her stomach protest. “Don’t be dumb, Draco.” 

“Hey, I’m just saying, you looked pretty cozy last night, and I think he’d be good for you.” 

“He was phenomenal, but it’s not happening again.” There was a pause. “I’m not telling you who’s better in bed, so you can stop right there.” 

“I didn’t--”

“But you were going to.” 

“But--”

“Draco I swear to Merlin I’ll hex your balls off.” 

“Can you at least give me some warning first? I think Tori would be rather put out--”

“Not as much as you’d think,” Astoria snickered. “Especially if you deserve it.” She tapped his legs so she could worm her way underneath them, settling his calves back across her thighs. He scowled in her general direction, but all was quickly forgiven when she started stroking his legs. 

“Did Nev get Hannah home?” Draco cracked an eye, the dim light of the sitting room like knives against his corneas. 

“By some miracle. I thought he was going to die when he remembered just how bold they were getting, though. They may need a few months to recover their dignity, and I’m never touching that decanter again.” 

Rose snickered, and then moaned. “I think I want to die now.” 

“Not even funny,” Draco growled.

“Then shut up so I can take a nap,” she shot back, lacking any venom. 

“Rose…” Astoria said slowly after a few minutes of silence. “What did you say to Lucius last night?” Draco opened his eyes again. He’d completely forgotten in the alcohol-fueled haze of the night, but now he was dying of curiosity. 

“Which time?” Rose still had her eyes buried in the crook of her elbow, and didn’t see the look Draco and Astoria shared. 

“Before he stormed out,” Draco supplied without hesitation. 

“I told him what he deserved to hear,” she mumbled, clearly close to drifting off. 

“Rosie… What did you say.” Draco sat straight up, his hangover forgotten. Astoria winced at how tightly he gripped her leg. 

“I said I liked him despite his martyr complex,” she yawned.

“Hold on, that’s what you told me,” Draco sputtered.

“And you wonder where you get it,” Astoria muttered, taking the opportunity to lay back across the sofa, swinging her legs into his lap. Draco just sat back, mulling over her words. 

He joked and taunted her, but in the end all he really wanted was for her to be happy… He knew he was lucky, Astoria seemed to understand his need for the other witch in his life. But if Rose fell for someone else… would it change everything? 

She was one of a kind. She gave and gave, to Draco and to Hope and her mother. She insisted his father deserved to be comforted, because that was the kind of witch she was. Draco loved her fiercely, but she deserved more than one week a year here and one night stands with their old friends. She deserved so much more than he could give her. 


	38. New Focuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Axios needs a distraction, Rose threatens Draco, and Lucius goes for someone unexpected

April 15, 2006

Astoria leaned back against Draco, and he settled an arm around her, the gesture more for his own benefit than hers, using her as a sort of barrier between himself and the awkward scene before them. Axios was across the table with a blonde Ministry witch leaning suggestively into him; he was practically in his lap. He introduced her as Natalie Richards from the Ministry, but besides the introduction, was acting very disinterested in her. Draco couldn’t fathom why, after he’d evidently moved on from the redhead, with Rose no less. 

Hannah and Neville were making their rounds, grinning like idiots over the shiny new ring on Hannah’s finger. He’d popped the question last night, and now The Three Broomsticks was overflowing with their old school friends. Draco could see Potter and his wife with a head of curls that could only be Granger in one corner, but the weasel was nowhere to be seen. Michael Corner was glaring at the back of Granger’s head for some reason, with Dominic Jones looking on with a look of amusement. Alice, Caroline, and Caroline’s new girlfriend Bea were sitting with Blaise and Daphne one table over. Draco recognized a kid that had once been a Ravenclaw prefect a few years younger than him. Davies? No. David. David… something. Draco also caught sight of Justin Finch-Fletchley and had to restrain himself from ripping Pansy out of the seat next to him.

“Where’s Damian?” Astoria whispered. 

Draco shrugged. “Aurora said she’d be here too.”

“Aurora’s dealing with a bunch of Slytherins and Gryffindors that are now sporting tails,” Axios offered from the other side of the table with a laugh. “She was escorting them to the hospital wing just as I was leaving. She tried to rope me into taking them up to the hospital wing instead.”

“Who replaced Madame Pomfrey?” The blonde was quite loud, Draco thought. Not the kind of witch he’d put with Fairview, but then he  _ had  _ shagged Rose… And several other witches if Astoria’s gossip was to be believed, and Draco was inclined to. Astoria always had very accurate intel. 

“They’re still getting healers from Mungo’s to fill in, but Viv said she was considering it,” Astoria volunteered when Axios didn’t say anything. Axios flinched as if he’d been hit, but the blonde didn’t appear to notice. 

“Is she any good?” Any other time Draco would have used the blonde’s inquiries to goad Axios, but he looked supremely uncomfortable, taking a drink to avoid answering. Maybe he hadn’t moved on as much as Draco had initially thought. That explained why Rose was so adamant it was a one-time thing. 

“She’s the best,” Astoria smiled tightly.

“What about the one you’re always talking about Axios? Didn’t you say she’d be perfect for it?” She batted her eyelashes as him, and Astoria suddenly got much more interested. 

“Same witch,” he croaked, and Draco cringed internally. 

“Fairview. Come get some air with me, it’s bloody boiling in here,” Draco stood and jerked his head towards the door. Axios looked relieved and was halfway to the door before Draco could get around the table, leaving Astoria and the Ministry witch to themselves. 

Axios heaved a sigh of relief into the cool spring air, and Draco couldn’t blame him. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled, and again, Draco couldn’t fault him. 

“Great. Don’t talk. Listen. You’ve got to find something else to focus on, mate. It’s been ages and she’s seeing someone else.” Astoria had been all too keen to tell Draco about Viv’s relationship with an American healer. She’d also told him that they’d broken up last month, but he wasn’t going to tell his friend that. It was time to find something else to hold his attention, or at least distract him for the night. “You’ve got a pretty witch practically crawling in your lap tonight. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Axios was staring up at the sky like he wanted nothing more than to join the stars rather than hear what Draco was saying, until Draco mentioned Natalie. “Nat? She doesn’t… Not like…” He seemed to be having trouble articulating, but Draco knew what he was trying to say, so he saved him from his misery. 

“All evidence to the contrary. So go back in there and at least pretend she’s got a chance if you want to go home with her,” Draco drawled, opening the door and leaving his friend to decide for himself. 

Axios reappeared ten minutes later, still looking vaguely sick to his stomach. When Draco and Astoria left half an hour later, Axios was doing a fairly good impression of a stalwart ship being overtaken by the kraken. As hard as she was trying, Draco knew she’d be going home alone. 

*******

October 13, 2006

_ Dear Draco, _

_ If you don’t propose before the next time I see you, you’re going to be offering up the Malfoy fortune sans the family jewels. You know I love you, but you’ve made Tori wait long enough. Narcissa would have been appalled. I swear to Merlin she’s either the most patient person I’ve ever met, or the best liar. You better hope for your sake it’s the first. _

_ Love, _

_ Rose  _

_ PS, she knows you have it, but wouldn’t let me show her.  _

_ PPS, You really need a better hiding place than your underwear drawer.  _

*******

December 1, 2006

_ Dear Rosie,  _

_ All things considered, I’m still a bit surprised she said yes. It was a low blow bringing Mother into it, but as usual, you were right. Additionally, Tori is definitely the most patient person in the world… Mother loved her for it.  _

_ You should come for the New Years Ball. It was Mother’s favorite event, and I finally feel like we have something worth celebrating, unless you’re going to get caught up in more French debauchery with Hope. Though if that’s your new priority, I approve whole-heartedly. Have fun for those of us committed to monogamy.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Draco.  _

__ PS I’d forgotten how annoyingly slow letters are. You need to come back to renew the charm before Tori finally snaps over my whinging.   
  


_ PPS Stay out of my bloody pants.  _

***

December 6, 2006

Draco bit into his apple, the tart fruit stinging his salivary glands and making his mouth water. He could hear the piano coming from his father’s study, but paused when he realized it wasn’t the heartbreaking “ _Sono andati?”_ from the opera again, but the duet ” _O soave fanciulla”_ if he wasn’t mistaken. The unexpected shift in the emotion of his father’s chosen pieces drew him into the study. 

Draco had always felt that watching his father play the piano was seeing something intensely personal that wasn’t meant for his eyes. The usually tightly-reined aristocrat with his iron-clad composure fell away when he sat before the keys. His perfect posture and control remained, but he played with  _ passion.  _

His long fingers, so much like Draco’s own, coaxed the music to life, every movement planned and calculated to draw forth the sound that filled the room and lifted or broke your heart. Since Narcissa’s death, it had been the latter. Until now. 

Something had changed. Draco’s sharp eyes fell to the desk, to the white and gold stationary laying open, the red wax seal and her name signed across the bottom in midnight blue ink.

And then Draco flashed back to Friday night at the opera house. This aria had swelled, and his father’s gaze had dropped to the audience. Draco had thought nothing of it. Afterwards, while he and Astoria greeted Neville and Pansy, Lucius had slipped away at the sight of the witch that accompanied them. Again, Draco had failed to see the significance. 

“Granger.” It was a whisper, one that wouldn’t be heard over the music, but the music had stopped. 

“I will be taking her to dinner tomorrow night,” Lucius said, still facing the sheet music, his back ramrod straight. 

Draco knew better than to ask if he was sure he knew what he was doing. Like when he played the piano, his every movement was calculated and confident. But…

“Why  _ her?”  _ Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the antipathy from his voice. The realization that it was Hermione Granger that had somehow caught his father’s eye had him spinning. It wasn’t her age that bothered him, or even the fact that she was a Gryffindor. It was that she was so… Plain. So uninteresting and so wholly unlike his mother that there is no way she could hold his father’s attentions. 

Lucius carefully lowered the key cover bracing his elbows on polished surface and ran his hands over his face in defeat. 

“Draco, do not tell me you still harbor your schoolyard rivalries.” 

“This has nothing to do with me!” 

“You are correct. It doesn’t.” Lucius turned, standing from the piano and reaching for the glass of firewhiskey he’d left on the sidebar. 

“I just don’t understand. Why  _ her? _ ” Draco’s stomach was revolting against the apple. 

“Because she can hold an interesting, intelligent conversation for more than thirty seconds, and I find her intriguing. It also doesn’t hurt that she’s quite pretty, yet doesn’t seem to know it.” He took a sip of his drink, calmly taking a seat in the leather armchair next to the fire, reaching for a book. 

“You think she’s pretty.” Draco repeated flatly. Had his father gone blind? The skinny girl with too much frizzy hair and not enough curves couldn’t possibly be the same one his father was talking about. 

“She’s no longer the thirteen year old child that broke your nose, Draco. She’s grown into quite the woman.” Lucius didn’t look up from his book to see Draco’s jaw tighten. 

“ _ Mother  _ was pretty.  _ Mother  _ was intelligent and interesting.  _ Mother  _ was ‘quite the woman’ as you say.  _ Granger  _ is an insufferable, pretentious know-it-all.”

Lucius’ eyes lifted from the page slowly, pinning Draco to the spot like shards of ice. Draco knew at once he’d overstepped. 

Lucius’ voice was just as icy as his eyes. “If all goes well, and she is amenable to seeing you once more, you will be polite, and you will not attempt to make her uncomfortable. I do not care to hear any more of your opinions on with whom I spend my time. Is that clear?”

Draco pressed his lips into a thin line, the apple still in his hand dripping small drops of juice down his fingers and into his palm. 

“Yes, sir.” He turned on his heel, leaving the study seething. In his own office, the one that had once been his mothers, he vanished what was left of the apple, and dove into the work he said he was going to leave until next week. He needed something to concentrate on that wasn’t Granger taking advantage of his father or taking his mother’s place. 

Astoria came looking when he still wasn’t in bed during the wee hours of the morning. He’d mumbled his apologies, letting her guide him back up the stairs and to their chambers. He’d gotten into bed next to her, and she held his hand, sleep coming much more quickly for her than was fair. 

He toyed with the ring on her finger, the one that his mother had suggested might be appropriate before she’d fallen ill. It had all happened so quickly, and now, three years later, Draco still wondered how they didn’t truly know what happened. 

Something bagged at him, telling him the answer was within reach but he just wasn’t seeing it. The feeling made him even more irate, and when he finally fell asleep, it was a shallow, restless sleep. 

The next day he and Astoria went to visit her brother Manny. He usually liked the Greengrass heir, but this weekend his mind kept wandering back to wondering what his father was doing with the insipid witch, and his temper was unusually short. Astoria was getting increasingly irritated by his snappishness, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice what was bothering him because that would mean he was acknowledging his father’s exceedingly poor taste in dinner company. 

He cringed to think that they might be something more, much like he cringed to think of Professor Slughorn naked. It was something that was best left as far from rational thought (or even irrational thought, to be perfectly honest) as humanly possible. 

At their return to Malfoy Manor Saturday evening, Bigsy’s exuberant welcome made his stomach seize. 

“Master Draco! Miss Astoria! Master Lucius would like to speak to you as soon as possible! Bigsy will collector Master Draco and Miss Astoria’s belongings and put them away.”

“Thank you, Bigsy. Where is Father?” 

“Master Lucius is in the library with the Miss.” her bright blue eyes sparkled and she gave him a wide smile. Evidently the little creature liked Granger. Of course she did. 

“Will you please tell him we’ll wait for him in his study?” 

“Yes sir, Master Draco. Right away.” She aparated away, and Astoria raised an eyebrow. 

“He’s with who?”

“I have a suspicion but I really hope I’m wrong. Come on. I’m going need a drink for this.” 

He poured himself a very large measure of firewhiskey, drinking nearly half of it before hearing the door handle turn. He faced the fireplace, wondering if it was too late to floo to Neville or Pansy’s place and get rip roaring drunk first. Or hell, to the Ministry and catch a portkey to Rose’s. The Atlantic separating him from his father and Granger sounded extremely appealing right about now. 

Draco turned, and his stomach threatened to evacuate the firewhiskey he’d already swallowed. It was Granger and she was… Holding his father’s hand? Her small fingers were laced through his, reminding him starkly of the teenage couples at Hogwarts. 

Lucius released her hand, sliding his arm around her in an even more familiar gesture and Draco’s stomach twisted again. 

“Draco, Astoria. You remember Hermione.” Astoria shot to her feet, her blue eyes wide. 

“Hermione  _ Granger?”  _ Astoria’s blue eyes flashed dangerously at Draco. He was in trouble tonight. But then her expression melted into something more akin to excitement. Why, he wasn’t sure, but Lucius was bound to take more kindly to Astoria’s eager acceptance than his own lukewarm welcome, especially considering the way the witch was recoiling. 

“I had no idea!” Astoria was bouncing forward, Lucius withdrawing from the line of fire himself. 

“Er… it’s… New.” Either Granger was significantly less verbose than she’d been in school, or she really was nervous. That was interesting, considering anyone else walking into the room would be afraid of Lucius, not he or Astoria. 

“Well that’s fine! It’s so nice to see you again, it’s been ages!” Astoria drew back, recognizing her uneasiness. 

“Er… I suppose it has. It’s nice to see you again too, Astoria.”

“Tori, lay off. Hello, Granger.” Draco finally moved forward to slide an arm around Astoria, her presence keeping him in line for the time being. 

“Draco.” Granger certainly was being quiet so far. He watched with disgust as she easily slid into the seat next to his father’s that had so often held Narcissa before her death. He let Astoria take the seat closest, and he sat across from them, nursing the firewhiskey and letting the burn keep him from saying too much while the two women chatted. 

“Darling why don’t you and Astoria go down to the dining room and get the wine poured. Draco and I need a moment to speak.” Draco’s simmering fury boiled. Darling? He was already calling her darling? As far as he knew, Narcissa had barely gotten a “Cissa” when his father was feeling generous, and now the gold-digging know-it-all was  _ darling.  _

The door clicked shut, and Draco let loose.

“ _ Darling? _ You’ve already got pet names? You’ve got her sitting in Mother’s place. You already show more affection to Granger than you did with your  _ wife!”  _ Draco was seeing red, the liquid in his glass betraying his shaking hands. But his breeding won over, and he stayed put, and didn’t even hurl the glass against the wall like he wanted to. 

“Are you quite finished?” Lucius’ icy tone was back, and if looks could kill, Draco would be dead on the oriental. Draco considered yelling some more, but knew it would just make things worse. “Good. Now let me make myself clear once more. You will be polite to her, and you will not go out of your way to make her uncomfortable. She is welcome here at any time, and if I get so much of a hint that you’re making it unpleasant, you will regret it.” Draco nodded once, and his father sat back slightly. 

“Now. Yes. I will call her darling or my dear as I please. She will sit to my left, just as your mother did, because that leaves my wand-hand free. That decision saved your mother’s life more than once, and may save hers. Or did you not see the article in the Prophet today stating that some of our old friends are back in the country and are out for blood?” Draco felt the blood drain from his face, the fear overtaking the residual rage, and Lucius looked grim. 

“That’s right. And Hermione will be a target even without my name attached. So when it becomes public that the Golden Girl Hermione Granger is involved with ex-Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, I will be prepared to defend her at all times. As for showing affection, it was your mother’s preference that I refrain, not mine.”

Draco balked at the last tidbit. He’d always assumed it was his father that withheld his affection. He certainly had with Draco. But if it had been Narcissa’s wishes...

“You of all people should know how much I loved your mother, Draco. Hermione is not Narcissa, nor will she ever take her place. But Hermione is what I have now, and I appreciate you not making it harder for us to adjust than it already is. You will adapt, or you will stay silent. Understood?” Lucius’ warning was clear, and he wasn’t going to toe the line now. He had Astoria to think of. 

“My apologies, Father.” 

“Apology accepted. Now, we’re going to join Hermione and Astoria and have dinner, and we will not mention the article until I have more information.” 

Draco threw back the rest of the firewhiskey, hoping to Merlin that the  _ Prophet _ was wrong this time and the remaining Death Eaters were far, far away. Though if they were back, it would give him something to think about other than the fact his father was shagging  _ Granger _ . The Death Eater option wasn’t looking quite so bad now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we see where Endings and Beginnings starts to cross over!


	39. Ready or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is not prepared for his father's new relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you keeping track, his chapter coincides with Chapters 12-19 of Beginnings and Endings.

Dinner was near excruciating. Watching the little witch sit in his mother’s chair and smile adoringly up at his father, laughing at his jokes and reaching out for him like he was her lifeline was horrid. What was even worse was watching her explain so frankly that her own parents wouldn’t speak to her after she saved their lives. 

The worst moment was when it came crashing down on him that she probably felt the same ache that he did when thinking of her mother. But she had it for her father, too. And they were still alive. What kind of parents would shun their child for saving their lives, even if it was from something they didn’t understand? 

“You go ahead,” he told Astoria once they’d excused themselves. “I’m going to hunt down that book I set down somewhere.” She left him with a kiss, and he ventured into the library. Autopilot took him to his workroom, the runes on the wall achingly familiar after so long. He knew it was his imagination, but he thought he could faintly smell roses. He wondered what Rose would say. 

She’d probably smack him and tell him to be happy Lucius had found someone, and not to be an asshole. If Lucius was ready to move on, it wasn’t up to Draco  _ not  _ to be. Movement caught his eye, and he went to the door in time to find Granger slipping through the stacks. 

“Granger.” She jumped like a scared kitten, her claws bared; he was more wary of her wand that was pointed at his chest, and lifted his hands carefully. Something flickered across her features before she lowered her wand.

“Draco.” It was odd, hearing his given name from her, but then it was just as odd hearing his father’s, and she couldn’t exactly use their surname, either. 

“Jumpy much?”

“Do I need to remind you what happened last time I was in this house? I think it’s justified.” That stung, and he wasn’t sure she knew just how remorseful he was, but she was here, and that was more than he’d ever expected. Before he could deliver a retort or an apology, she’d already turned and was stalking away. Draco put his hands in his pockets, debating on whether or not he should let it go. 

“Granger, wait.” She stopped and turned slowly, an unreadable look on her face. “I just wanted to talk.” 

She stared long and hard before nodding tentatively. “Okay. Let’s talk.” He hadn’t expected that. In fact, he had been relatively certain he wasn’t going to leave without being hexed to next week first. This was going to be uncomfortable, but better to just say it all now. 

“Look, I don’t know that we’ve ever had a conversation that I wasn’t taunting you or that wasn’t across a courtroom. When Father told me it was you that had him… Merlin, that had him living again, I didn’t believe it. And I was prepared to hate you even more than I did in school. For preying on Father, for being a pretentious know it all, for taking my mother’s place.” He couldn’t look at her any longer. Her eyes were burning holes through his very soul. 

“But I don’t think I could hate you.” Her mouth dropped open, and if he hadn’t just bared his soul to her, he would have found it entertaining. Few people surprised Hermione Granger. So instead of laughing, he shrugged. 

“I’m not going to lie and say I don’t have a hard time seeing you in my mother’s chair at dinner, or that it’s easy to hear my father call you darling, but you… Dammit Granger, you make him happy. The last time I remember him telling that stupid Celestina Warbeck joke was before the war. And as much as I hate to say it, you probably understand how much I miss her more than anyone else, even if the circumstances are different.” 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said at dinner. Her parents were alive, but didn’t understand the sacrifice she’d made to save their lives, whatever that sacrifice had been. He didn’t know if he was capable of that kind of love, of that kind of strength, but he missed his mother so much it physically hurt some days. He thought maybe she would understand that. 

“You’ll never stop missing her. Sorry.” Tears sparkled in her eyes, and her lip trembled. It was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her, and she’d been tortured on his godsforsaken floor right in front of him. It hit him like a ton of bricks that his father had been right, and the woman before him wasn’t the girl that had broken his nose when they were thirteen. She was a force to be reckoned with, to have so much compassion for the son of the woman whose husband she was sleeping with. 

But that was it, wasn’t it? She understood that nothing she could do would allow her to measure up to Narcissa. Nor did she seem to want to. Maybe that’s what he needed to know. 

“Anyway. Astoria’s waiting for me. But I’ll see you around, Hermione.” Her name was so foreign on his tongue and it occurred to him that he’d never said it without a sneer until they were seventeen and she was at Bella’s mercy. 

Suddenly finding whatever book he’d been looking for wasn't important any longer, but he took one anyway, just so she didn’t think he’d come here to find her. He hurried up the stairs and down the hall, not even pausing at the music that spilled from his father’s study. He didn’t want to be anywhere near it when Granger—Hermione— came back. 

Astoria was curled up on a sofa when he came in. “I like her,” she smirked. Draco hummed noncommittally, still musing over his rather one-sided conversation with her as he took his place next to his fiancee. 

“She’s… different than she was at school.” 

“So are we,” she said softly. “We’ve lived through years and a war. She’s had to fight every step of the way to get to where she is, and I think Lucius has been noticing for longer than he’s letting on.” 

Draco’s eyebrows shot up, eliciting a shrug. “He’s a planner. Do you really think he’d make a move on Golden Girl Granger without thinking it to death first?” 

Draco’s shoulders sagged. She was right, which meant his father was serious. 

“Don’t look so put out about it. It could be worse,” Astoria set the book aside. “It could have been some two dimensional floozy with a penchant for spending too much money and drinking too much wine at dinner, but she’s intelligent and really quite funny. She obviously isn’t here for any ulterior motives, she’s too much a goody-two-shoes Gryffindor for that.”

Draco sighed in defeat. As usual, Astoria was correct and it was just a matter of time before they found out if she could take the heat that would come with dating the wealthiest and most influential pureblood in the country. 

The next afternoon he found Granger curled up looking rather uncertain while his father and Axios’ father Anthony played their Sunday chess match. He was quite amused that she attempted to pull his father’s arm off and swore when she was surprised, and oddly intrigued that she chose to return to work on some of his runes at the chess board instead of in the quiet seclusion of his work room. 

It made sense, he supposed, based on Potter and the Weasel. They never stopped talking, and the Weasel was supposedly quite good at chess. So he let her go, fetching an apple for an afternoon snack before returning to the board himself. He’d obviously never been close to her, she’d been his academic rival all through school, but something was off. 

Lucius extracted his hand from her wild curls and left to walk Anthony out, and Draco stayed, watching the girl. She was characteristically snappy with him, but quickly deteriorated into an anxiety-riddled mess as the seconds ticked by. It was like watching her descend through the hell of their fifth year in fast-forward. Draco wasn’t entirely sure what he was seeing, but he was just as relieved as she was when Lucius reappeared. 

He left her in his care, retreating to his office and writing a letter to Rose. He didn’t know if he’d send this one, he hadn’t sent the last several. Sometimes he wondered if it was Rose or the act of writing out his thoughts that was what he needed more. 

***

“Actually I was just waiting for the green asshole to shut up, but we all know how difficult it is for him.” He would know that voice anywhere, and of course it was coming from the door of Granger’s ministry office while he was trying not to retch at finding his father snogging his old school mate while delivering the message that as the resident ex-Death Eaters, his and Lucius’ presence was required by the ever delightful scarheaded Auror who naturally was also the much-lauded savior of the wizarding world and previously mentioned school-mate’s best friend. Because of course. 

“What are you doing here?” Draco hugged her tight as she laughed that beautiful laugh. Over a year was much too long between these hugs. 

“I have a meeting with Ms Granger that you are now cutting into.” He considered telling her he was more important, but Granger was looking decidedly unimpressed, and he wasn’t exactly feeling like testing Lucius’ tolerance today, new girlfriend or not. 

“Fine fine. You have to come to dinner at the manor then. Tori will murder me if I get to see you and she didn’t.” 

“My portkey leaves at four to get me back by lunch in New York.” 

“So stay! I know Damian will set you up with another.” He would, and now his vague questions from earlier about why he was at the ministry today made more sense. That tosser. 

“I can’t, I have meetings all afternoon!” 

“Come back for the New Years Ball then. You’ll get to see everyone and we’ll have a good time.”

“Fine! I’ll set it up. Tell Tori I said hello. Which, by the way, ABOUT DAMN TIME.” He grinned, knowing full well she knew it was her own doing.  “Okay, okay, okay. Really you gotta go. Some of us actually work for a living.” Rose gave him a hug that morphed into a shove; a move that she’d perfected sometime in the spring of their year at school together. 

Draco snorted. “Fine. I’ll send you an invite with the details. And you better plan on staying a few days. I’ll make sure your room is set up, and I know Tori will want to talk wedding details, so be ready.”

“Can’t wait. Give her my love.” He nodded, catching sight of the electric blue ribbon at the end of her hair. He’d have to ask her later and fill her in on the situation with his father, because Lucius was pulling him from the room, past Granger’s secretary with the distrustful eyes and the evident lack of common sense. Seeing as she let anyone and everyone parade into Granger’s office with Lucius already there, Draco wondered for a moment who else was going to walk in on one of their trysts. He hoped to Merlin it would be the Weasel. 

“What does Potter want?” Lucius didn’t seem pleased that he was being summoned, and Draco’s discreet rub over his left forearm just deepened Lucius’ displeasure. It had become their kind of informal signal for incoming discussions of less-savory acts over the last several years. Draco wasn’t any happier about it, but he also wasn’t the one that had inserted himself into the Golden Trio’s inner circle. In fact, he’d worked fairly hard over the last decade to steer clear of them, much to Neville’s annoyance.

One floor down and they were passing a sea of desks sprinkled with people in royal blue robes. Aurors. Many of them had the same look of distrust that Granger’s secretary had sported. Potter was sitting behind a great desk in an office that Draco recalled other office heads sitting behind before him. His hair was just as helpless as it had been in school, but the man now had an air of authority that hadn’t been present in their teenage years. 

He motioned to the chairs across the desk even as he tapped several sheets of paper on his desk; interdepartmental memos that folded themselves in aeroplanes and shot off in various directions as Lucius and Draco seated themselves. Draco was all too aware of how the scene appeared, Lucius’ perfect aristocratic posture against Draco’s arrogant sprawl. It was a carefully cultivated facade; Lucius was perfectly at ease, while Draco was ready to jump out of his skin. 

This wasn’t the first time they’d been called upon for their so-called  _ expertise,  _ and Draco wasn’t foolish enough to hope it would be his last. No, that would be letting them off far too easily for their part in the war, though compared to Azkaban… Draco really couldn’t complain. Too much.

Potter ended up spilling the beans that Antonin Dolohov and Rodophus Lestrange, technically Draco’s uncle, were rumored to be back in Britain. They’d never been caught after the final battle, only showing up to cause problems every few years. That was not new. What was new, was the fact that the American healer that Axios’ witch had been dating was apparently mixed up with them, and making threats towards her,  _ in front of Axios and another professor _ . Draco couldn’t imagine what could have possessed a man to do such a stupid thing, but he supposed he’d done stupider, namely trying to kill Albus bleeding Dumbledore. Though he  _ had  _ been coerced into that, so the American prick took this round. 

Potter let Draco go over an hour later, and instead of waiting around, he headed back up to Damian’s office, knowing Rose would have to come back through when she was done with Granger. He knocked, and entered to find Alice sitting across from Damian, looking rather vexed. Damian himself was red-faced and breathing shallowly. They’d been arguing about something. 

“Should I come back?” Draco asked dryly, looking between the two. 

“No, I’m leaving,” Alice said sharply, pushing past Draco. Damian sighed, dropping his face into his palms. 

“Sorry, mate,” he started, but Draco waved him off. 

“Not even close to the worst thing I’ve walked in on today,” he informed him with a frown. 

“That sounds… I’m not actually sure what that’s supposed to mean.” His eyebrows furrowed and Draco shook his head.

“Walking in on my father snogging his new girlfriend in  _ her  _ office may have scarred me for life, and I sincerely thought she of all people with disapprove of office snogs so I’m going to pretend like none of it happened and hope someone has the decency to obliviate me at some point.” 

Damian’s eyebrows shot up, and Draco shook his head again, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Lucius Malfoy, snogging in a Ministry office.” He sounded strangely in awe of the situation, and Draco managed a snort, even with his neck extended. “With who?” 

“Considering the reporters who are already cornering me, I suppose you’ll find out sooner or later… But I want to be perfectly clear that when I found out, I very nearly came here to beg you for a portkey to get me as far from here as humanly possible.” Draco sighed, closing his eyes against the harsh lights above him. “Hermione Granger.” 

There was a heartbeat of silence, and then Damian laughed loudly, slapping the desktop with the palm of his hand. “That’s hilarious Draco. But really. Who is it?” 

Draco sat up and stared at him flatly, earning him a look of shock that probably would have rivaled the look on the Weasel’s face when he found out, not that Draco would have wanted to be present for that.

“Bloody hell, you’re serious.” Draco dropped his head back and resumed studying the ceiling, and Damian laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know how to process this.”

“Do it fast, they’ll be together at the ball. Also, why didn’t you tell me Rose was going to be here?” 

“Oh so you did see her!” 

“Yes, no thanks to you. Apparently she was here to talk to Granger.”

“You know I can’t give out that kind of information, Draco.” 

“But it was Rose!” Draco sat up, scowling. Damian shrugged. 

“I thought she’d tell you.” Damian sat back, rolling a foam stress ball between his palms. 

“Evidently not.” Draco was sulking, but he didn’t particularly care. Between Potter, Granger, his father, and Rose, he had multiple justifications.

“Stop pouting, Draco.” Rose slipped into the office, taking the seat beside him. “It was last minute, apparently your new step-mom had a fit Friday and left. Her assistant contacted my office to reschedule and I knew I wouldn’t have time to do any more than say a quick hello.” 

“Don’t call her that,” Draco snarled, his foul mood worsening. Damian raised an eyebrow, but kept his comments to himself. 

“I didn’t know you’d feel so strongly about it. You haven’t been answering my letters,” Rose shot an accusatory glare at him, and Draco wilted. He never could stay mad at her. “We have a lot to talk about, so when I come back for New Years, you better be ready,” she warned. 

He nodded, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. 

“Besides, I’m leaving here on a high note today. I just got Golden Girl Granger to run out of her own office,” she laughed, and Draco looked up, wide-eyed. Damian froze, the stress ball in his hands crushed between his palms. “Oh relax. I just reminded her what a fine male specimen she landed. She’s a bit of a prude, isn’t she?” 

Damian gaped at her, and Draco was doing his best to not gag.

“Rosie, please tell me you didn’t talk about my  _ father  _ with  _ Granger _ .” 

“That would make me a liar, and we all know I’m no liar. Besides. I’ve seen you naked and you’re basically a carbon copy!” She was grinning broadly, obviously enjoying the air of discomfort in the room and Draco's sputtering. She leaned over, wrapping one arm around Draco, kissing his cheek before withdrawing. She pulled an old cracked marble out of her pocket seconds before it glowed blue, and she was gone. 

Draco looked up at Damian, who was still sporting a horrified expression that surely matched his own. “That—“ he motioned jerkily at where Rose had been sitting moments before, “—does NOT leave this room.” Damian shook his head hastily. 

“I see what you mean about needing to be obliviated, though,” he said after several long moments of silence. “I was not ready for that image in my head.” 

***

Draco was careful to avoid any shared spaces that evening, not sure he could face either of them, especially with Astoria working late. He spent the evening locked in his office, with silencing spells in place, just to be safe. He was fairly certain Bigsy would tattle to Lucius, so he asked another elf, Millie, to bring him dinner. 

By the next day, he’d relaxed a little, and managed to have breakfast with Lucius without wanting to crawl in a hole and die, which he was taking as a good sign. Even better was that Granger wasn’t present at dinner. 

“Where’s Hermione?” Astoria asked brightly, and Draco kept his eyes on the china. 

“She said she was tired, she may have gone straight home,” Lucius said lightly.  _ Too _ lightly, Draco thought. His father had a bad habit of acting like the things that bothered him most were of little consequence. He was worried, so Draco assumed Hermione hadn’t explicitly told him she wouldn’t be there for dinner. Interesting. 

Perhaps his concern was justified, because the next Draco saw of her, she was tearing through the manor, screaming for Lucius and showering the marble floors in violet sparks. Astoria moved to follow her, and Draco went after Astoria, ending up in the hallway watching Granger fall sobbing into his father’s arms, followed quickly by her tearing herself back out of his arms, screaming that he knew something. 

“You know they were back!” She was screeching, her voice reverberating around the hallway. 

And then it started to make sense. She hadn’t known that the two escaped Death Eaters were back, and now… Draco was only really catching bits of pieces of what Granger was shouting. 

“You made  _ Harry _ tell me? They will kill you if they get the chance! This isn’t just about you or me or the healer anymore!”

Draco’s stomach sank at her words. She was right, of course. They’d tried before; it was part of the reason Draco worked from home. It was safer. But Granger was honestly terrified for Lucius. 

Draco watched her iron resolve turn to dust when his father threw up the same barriers that he’d depended on for so long. His grey eyes, the same ones Draco had inherited, turned to ice, and his voice was just as cold when he snapped at her, asking her if she thought she could tell him what she allowed. Draco’s chest tightened; he hadn’t seen Lucius fall back on the cold razor blade persona since the war, and it still managed to strike fear into his heart. 

And then Granger straightened, spitting out his father’s title like a curse and removed herself. Draco had been prepared to take hold of Astoria to keep her from running after her, but he hadn’t been ready to see his father sink against the wall, looking weaker than he’d ever seen him. 

Huddled over his mother’s broken body; the trials that stripped him bare; exiting the room after Narcissa had taken her last breath; none of it compared. And inexplicably, Draco found himself asking, “You didn’t tell her?” Inexplicably, he felt the betrayal on her behalf. 

“Draco, please go.” Lucius Malfoy did not plead. And yet, he pleaded with Draco to leave him to his misery. Misery written so clearly in his eyes it was painful to meet his gaze.

He was still standing frozen after his father had made a graceless exit from the hallway and Astoria stopped pulling on his arm, instead pressing herself into his side, tears rolling down her face. Her tears forced him into action, and he guided her into his father’s study, sitting roughly in a chair and pulling her into his lap. With his arms firmly around her, he could almost breathe. The shock and dismay of the scene that had played out had left his mind reeling. 

They sat like that for a long time, and Draco’s mind eventually wandered back to what Rose had said the day before. “We have a lot to talk about and you better be ready…” After tonight, Draco was relatively certain he couldn’t be any less prepared for anything she had to say than he had been for the realization that he wanted nothing more than to bring Granger back so he never had to see that look in his father’s eye again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience- I know historically I don't go this long without posting an update, but after 6 long months of recovery, I'm returning to my muggle job tomorrow and I have a lot to prepare for! Updates might not be as quick, but I promise you all they're still coming! Thank you all who are still reading and still reviewing! I live for your words!


	40. Asking for Answers

Draco was at his desk, pouring over his latest rune translation for the new Ministry contract when Astoria came in. He looked up and scanned over her quickly. She stopped in the doorway, not coming any closer. 

“It turns out Granger was here most of last night and today.” Draco said nonchalantly, returning to his work and notating a possible translation in his neat script. 

“I know, I just came from her. Lucius sent Bigsy to get me because she had a fever. He said she’d slept for nearly fourteen hours straight, but I’m more worried about the fever.” 

Draco frowned, sitting back. He wasn’t sure why, but hearing she was sick was almost as troublesome as if he was hearing it about someone he actually cared about. Pansy or Alice, for instance. She’d looked awful when Potter had shown up, but the way Astoria said it made him wonder if it was worse than Granger had let on. 

Astoria was still standing in the doorway, as if she was unsure of something, which made him wonder if his father had told her not to tell him it was worse. 

“Tori? What’s the matter?” She was fingering her engagement ring with a faraway look in her eyes. 

“When did you know you wanted to marry me?” 

He was taken aback by the question, and pondered it for a moment. 

“Before Mother died, before she got sick. You and I were in the library. I don’t remember what we were looking for, but I came around the corner to you reading this old book on healing potions, and I just… knew.” He gave her a little smile. “I went to Mother and her response was to find my father and demand that he pay up. Apparently they had a bet going as to when I’d admit it.” He looked harder at her in the doorway, and wondered, not for the first time, what had taken him so long to see that his best friend was the love of his life. 

“What about you?” She surprised him by blushing. Astoria never blushed. 

“The day I finished my NEWTs… I went into your office at Hogwarts and you were making the same face you were when I came in just now. You were so focused, but you looked up and analyzed me the same way. You didn’t do it to Aurora when she came in a few minutes later, or to anyone else that I could tell. But no matter what you were working on, or how focused you were, you always looked up for me… And you still do it.” She smiled, but it was a sad smile. 

“I’ve always feared the day that I walked in and you didn’t look up.” She dropped her eyes, and Draco was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t even realized he did it, but she was right. He’d been doing it for years. Since she’d started invading their classroom eighth year, in fact.

He finally stood up from the desk, and pulled her into him. She folded in on herself and him, and he instinctively knew she needed to feel safe. 

“What brought this up?” 

“What Hermione said last night. They’ll kill you if they get the chance. This morning she was having some kind of fever dream, but she kept crying out. The moment Lucius would touch her, she’d calm right down. She’s just as afraid of losing him as I am of losing you.” 

Draco tightened his hold on her. “Nobody is going to be losing anybody else. It’s going to be fine. Potter left here talking like he was going to have the entire bloody Auror force here if he got so much as a whisper Granger was in trouble.”

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better. There’s been some talk at the hospital… I think they’re recruiting again.” Astoria shook her head, leaning against Draco’s chest. Her fingers ghosted over Draco’s left forearm, where the scar left by the long-faded Dark Mark was hidden by his sleeve, and he sighed into her hair. 

“It’s in the past for us,” he told her firmly. “Now we just have to worry about Potter coming for dinner…”

  
***

December 18, 2006

“That wasn’t so bad,” Astoria said as she stripped out of her robes, watching Draco in the mirror. He sat on the end of their bed, sliding his shoes off and bracing his elbow on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. 

“It could have been worse,” he agreed begrudgingly. “I can’t believe my father, though.” 

“For kissing her at the table or for tricking her into a conversation?” 

“Both.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how to feel about any of it. I don’t know how he can get over Mother this quickly.”

“It’s been—“

“Three and a half years, I know. I just thought that it would take longer. If ever.” 

Astoria sat beside him, rubbing his back with slow, broad strokes. 

“He still loves her. And misses her. But Hermione is different. He’s different with her. Like you are different with me than you were with Rose.”

“It’s not the same.”

“How is it not?” 

“Rose and I decided. Mother didn’t  _ decide  _ to die.”

“No, but it still took you a long time to realize that you could be happy with someone other than Rose. I was there, remember? And I promise you it's not something Hermione takes lightly either. It’s hard to be the follow-up act.”

“But you’re more than just a follow up act, Tori.”

“Exactly.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, and went into the bathroom. He heard the water turn on in the bathtub, and he stayed put, mulling over her words. 

Could Hermione be his father’s Astoria? He didn’t know if the two were even comparable. Tori had been his best friend for years before they tried it as a couple. Hermione just tumbled into Lucius’ life like some kind of pathetic kitten. 

He was feeling restless, so he slipped out into the hallway, intending on wandering the library until something caught his attention. His father’s voice spilled into the hall from his study, a sliver of light shining across the oriental rug where the door hung open. 

“You do not have anything to compete with.” Draco paused, his heart sinking when he continued in the same tone he used on Draco when he was disappointed. “You are not Narcissa, nor would I want you to be. My relationship with you isn’t comparable to my relationship with Narcissa. Do you understand?” 

There was a pregnant pause, and the witch said something he couldn’t hear. Another long pause. 

“Hermione, what you have to offer me is far better than anything you seem to be under the impression that I would want.” Lucius’ voice sounded sad, as if whatever she’d said had broken his heart. 

“You are a young, beautiful, brilliant witch with a heart of gold. You are inspiring and you don’t know it, let alone flaunt it. You don’t allow yourself to be dictated or get lost in propriety for propriety’s sake. You didn’t agree to dinner with me because you saw a rich widower, or a circus act. You came because you wanted to know me.” 

Draco moved away, his heart aching and afraid to hear any more. Astoria was right, and he had his answer. What was worse, was the fact that Hermione obviously cared a great deal for his father, but was afraid she wasn’t enough. His heart pounded, and he turned around, going right back into the room he shared with Astoria. He quickly stripped out of his clothes and motioned for her to sit forward in the bath. He slid into the hot water behind her, and pulled her back against his chest. 

“This is a nice surprise,” she sighed, relaxing into his hold. 

“You know that I love you more than anything, right?” He tightened his hold, pressing his nose into her hair. 

“Is everything okay?” Astoria turned to look back at him, her blue eyes narrowed. Draco wasn’t one for random declarations of love, and he knew she knew it. 

“I just don’t ever want you to think you’re not enough, or the best thing to ever happen to me. I’ll always love Rose, but you’re the one I love and want to spend the rest of my life with. The dinners with people we don’t like, the arguments about inconsequential things, the nights we don’t say a word…” He kissed her gently, and lay back so her head was cradled in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

“I know.” Her acknowledgment was met with a kiss to her bare shoulder, and Draco sat back, thinking that he didn’t mind so much that she was always right, and maybe his mother had been right in saying he was more like his father than he realized. 

***

“We need reinforcements. I truly thought you were exaggerating.” Draco couldn’t believe how terrible Granger was on the dancefloor.

“When have you ever known me to exaggerate,” Granger hissed over Lucius’ shoulder. “You little—“ 

“Darling,” Lucius cut her off. “Draco, if it isn’t constructive, it isn’t necessary.” Draco huffed and headed to the floo. Pansy was his first stop, because of course this couldn’t have been a night that Astoria was home. Pansy had mentioned at their movie night the previous Sunday how bored she’d been lately in the ministry’s public relations office, as apparently Potter had barred her from commenting on the Death Eater situation. 

“Father’s new liason can’t dance to save her life, so we need to help them before she embarasses the hell out of us at the New Year’s Ball.” She looked intrigued, and Draco knew he had her. 

“Well who is it?”

“Honestly, you won’t believe me until you see it for yourself.” 

“Fine, I’ll go attempt to assist with the lady lover. I swear to Merlin it better not be some old hag though.” She wrinkled her pug nose and Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Meet me there in half an hour. I need Neville, too.” 

“Is  _ Neville _ really the best choice for dance instruction?” Pansy raised an eyebrow, and Draco snorted. 

“Apparently he had success with Granger for the Yule Ball fourth year, so it could be worse.” 

“Did he really? Fine, fine. I’ll be there in half an hour.” She waved a hand and kissed his cheek as he stepped back through the floo, this time to Hogwarts. 

Neville and Hannah’s rooms reminded him of the Hufflepuff common room. The roomy sitting area was done in earthy tones, with gold accents and several plants Draco vaguely recalled from his days in Herbology. Hannah looked up from where she was sitting at a desk, writing a letter. 

“Hi, Draco. This is a surprise.”

“Please tell me you and Nev aren’t busy tonight.” He dropped unceremoniously onto the sofa in front of the fire. Hannah glanced at a calendar on the desk and shook her head. 

“Nev had rounds right after dinner, and he doesn’t have any detentions scheduled, so we should be free. He’ll be back any minute. Why?” 

As if on cue, the door opened, and Neville strolled in, his dark robes flaring slightly around his ankles. 

“Severus did it better,” Draco informed his friend with a smirk, and Neville scowled in return. “I need your help.”

“You have a shite way asking for it,” Neville grumbled as he sat across from Draco, crossing an ankle casually across his knee. “What do you need?” 

“I hear you had some success in getting Granger ready for the Yule Ball…” Draco trailed off, and Neville’s face didn’t betray the truth. The man had been spending too much time with Slytherins since their school days, himself included. “Father is currently in our ballroom attempting to teach Granger how to dance, and it’s a trainwreck. If not for me, then do it for her sake.” 

That got a reaction from both Neville and Hannah. Neville grinned, and Hannah’s jaw dropped. 

“Well then. Fancy a dance, love?” Neville winked at Hannah, who pushed her letter aside. 

“Only because it’s Hermione,” she sighed. 

The three of them stepped through the floo, and Pansy followed shortly thereafter. She strode ahead, anxious to find out who had won over Lucius Malfoy’s heart. Neville and Hannah were next, and he trailed in, trying to keep his laughter at Granger’s panic at bay. She finally conceded to Draco’s choices, and nearly an hour and a half later, Neville and Hannah were saying their goodbyes. Granger hadn’t even stepped on his father’s toes the last go ‘round.

Besides needing to allude to the situation with the whiskey decanter that he and Astoria still refused to touch, it went rather well, and Pansy was accompanying him to his office to wait for Astoria who was due home a while later. 

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” she said with a shake of her head. “Were they  _ really _ snogging over the dinner table?” 

Draco groaned. “Please don’t make me relive it. But yes. Neville, Aurora, Potter, and the she-weasel were all there to witness it.” Pansy let out a cackling laugh. “And then there was the time I walked in on them snogging in her office… Rose caught that one. I’m bloody terrified to walk around my own house!” 

“Oh damn… Hold on.” Pansy turned around, braving the ballroom by herself, returning with her purse and cloak in hand. “Salazar help you. They really can’t keep their hands to themselves, can they?” She scrunched her nose, and laughed again at Draco’s expression. 

They managed several hours without mentioning the erumpet in the room, until Astoria came home. She’d swept in to kiss Draco hello, telling Pansy to stay put so she could go change. Draco and Pansy were laughing over a poorly-worded memo from Potter when Astoria flew back in half an hour later, still wearing her green healer’s robes. 

“Pans, sorry but you have to go, now. Draco, you have to get Lucius out of that room.” Pansy’s eyebrows flew up, and Draco stared at his fiancee with a look of pure incredulity. “Draco, NOW.” 

The urgency in Astoria’s voice kept Pansy from arguing, and Draco followed Astoria up the stairs. His stomach clenched at the sight of his father on his knees, Granger looking deathly ill and so small in the great big bed. Had she always been so petite? 

“Father? Father, come on.” Lucius didn’t even react, and Astoria shook her head. Draco swallowed hard, and stepped closer, both of his hand grasping his father’s shoulders. He didn’t know if he’d ever done such a thing, but it was all he could think of, short of hexing him. “Father, come with me. Let Tori work.” His father leaned forward, pressing his lips to Granger’s hand before allowing Draco to lead him from the room. 

Draco took him to the only place he could think of. The chess board in the library. It had been a safe place when Narcissa had died, where Draco and Lucius had managed to connect for the first time after the war… But what else could he do? To fill the silence, Draco started talking; rambling may have been a better term for it, but he felt the need to fill the pained emptiness of the library. 

He started with Astoria, simply because that is where his mind lingered, with her whispering an endless stream of incantations over the witch that made his father smile and laugh. From there he moved on to his friends, starting with Neville and Hannah, on to Pansy and Caroline, Rose and Hope… He talked the entire time, Lucius never saying a word that wasn’t a command to the wizard’s chess set. How Draco wished Rose were here. She’d know what to say; what to do. She always did. 

When Astoria reappeared, Draco’s throat was dry and he was appealing to deities and forces he didn’t even know the specifics of, just hoping that someone or something would keep her alive. Losing Granger like this, so soon after Narcissa would destroy him.

Lucius hurried off to be with her, and Astoria looped her arm through his.

”He was protecting his queen the entire time. I could have had him in check ages ago,” Draco observed; and Astoria sighed again, shaking her head, a tiny smile of amusement at her lips. 

“His queen isn’t on that board, love. Let’s go to bed before I change my mind about keeping her here.” 

Draco acquiesced, and let her lead their way from the room, taking a leisurely pace through the manor. He was still mulling over her words when she squeezed his arm as they passed his father’s study.

“So interesting tidbit…” She looked torn on whether or not she should be sharing said tidbit, but went on at Draco’s pointed look. “They’re apparently sleeping together, but not shagging.” 

Draco gagged, his earlier concern evaporating. “I didn’t ask, I didn’t want to know.” He paused. “Why do you know that?” He grimaced. “Don’t answer that. I’m not asking.” 

She laughed, and Draco shook his head violently. “Tori, for the love. Please promise me never to share anything like that regarding my father and Granger ever again.”

“Hey! He was the one that assumed you were complaining about it. I tried to get him to stop…” She was still snickering when the door to their room closed behind them, and Astoria threw up their own silencing charms. 


	41. Knowledge is Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After some truly invaluable feedback from @zeeksmom and @bellamalfoy, I decided to polish up this chapter and just repost it, hopefully with some clarifying details that will make our story easier to follow. In doing so, I realized that I somehow missed an entire section that didn't transfer correctly. So even if it sounds familiar, I'd suggest re-reading this one if you caught the first version.
> 
> I don't work with a beta, so I'm truly grateful to my readers that consistently come back, despite my very human mistakes! 
> 
> XOXO, 
> 
> Ruby

“Dragon born of silver and black… Draco, born of Malfoy and Black…” Draco turned slowly in place, the enormity of Hermione’s discovery settling over him like a shroud. The room that had once been his primary school and a haven seemed to close in on him as he spun around, the undulating runes drawing closer and closer. “Fuck. I need Aurora.” 

“I’ll go talk to Aurora, you stay here, Draco.” Draco dimly registered his father’s words from his place just inside the door, but he was too busy drinking in the new meanings behind each of his translations. Scarlet ink slashed through several words, drawing his attention. “Flower” was corrected to “Rose” several times over, and Draco shook his head. It couldn’t mean  _ Rose,  _ could it? 

One line stood out as if it was being illuminated by magic. 

“Rose, blooming in a foreign land, returns home to thrive in ash and embers.” 

Rose had come to Hogwarts and bloomed, to her own mother’s admission. She’d gone back to the US and quickly became a rising star within the ICW. Especially after the attacks… 

“ _ What am I supposed to do, Mother?”  _

_ “Her family has gone up in ash and embers, Draco. You must allow her to overcome it on her own. She will be stronger for it, if you allow her to thrive.”  _

_ “I’m not suggesting I do otherwise.” _

_ “No, you’re choosing to wallow.” _

_ “Yes, I suppose I am.” _

_ “Suit yourself, Draco.”  _

Narcissa’s voice echoed through his mind, the words she’d said that day…

That had been the day she’d gone to beg for Astoria’s help. Mere hours later, Astoria had barged into his room, tearing away his covers and threatened to have him bathed like a child. 

She had echoed the prophecy. Ash and embers, if he allowed her to thrive...

She knew. 

Narcissa knew. 

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he felt his blood run cold. Draco searched the sheets, looking for any trace of Narcissa’s fate. He found it quickly. 

“Dark turned light will fade, 

Her blood run cold.

The Curse of the ancients

Seeking recompense.

Life for Death,

Death for life.” 

Draco fell to his knees in the center of the room, the magnitude of his discovery crushing him and stealing his breath. 

“Draco?” Aurora’s voice came from behind him, but wasn’t enough to retrieve him from the renewed depths of his grief. 

Ragged breaths tore at his chest, and a gentle hand landed on his shoulder. Aurora knelt beside him, bewildered and concerned. He reached up for her hand, and she gave it quickly. 

“Draco what in Merlin’s name? Lucius said they were yours?” She looked around at the sheets hanging on the walls, and realization crept over her features. 

“Mother knew what they meant. Mother knew she was going to die because it was right in front of us, for  _ years,  _ Aurora.” His disbelief was quickly spiraling into anger, and he shook his head violently. 

Aurora was silent for several long moments before speaking again. “Draco, Narcissa never did  _ anything  _ without reason. If she didn’t tell you and Lucius, there was a reason. And I’d be willing to bet the answer is here, we just have to find it. Until we do, you can’t tell Lucius. Not yet.” 

Draco’s eyes snapped to hers, and he could see her imploring him to understand. 

“Knowledge is power. Narcissa understood that better than anyone I’ve ever known, and I worked with Albus and Severus for years.” She huffed a humorless laugh. “So get up, and find what she knew.” Draco held her gaze for a long moment, and slowly straightened. 

“This has to stay here, with us. Father, Tori… Rose…” His voice broke. “They can’t know.” He finished in a whisper, hoping to heaven and hell Granger would have the same sense, or that she hadn’t figured out the extent of what she’d uncovered. 

She nodded sharply, and stood, offering a hand to Draco. 

When Lucius came back in several minutes later, Draco was focused on a passage that had been marked in Hermione’s scarlet ink, changing “alight” to “aflame.” He was tapping on one of the runes. 

“I translated this as “marks,” but couldn’t it be “scars?” 

“We do have plenty of those, don’t we?” Lucius’ humorless re-entry peaked Draco’s interest. 

“Where’s Granger?” She’d been with him when he’d gone to summon Aurora, but his father appeared to be very much alone at the moment. 

“Is Harry gone then?” Aurora looked up from the section surrounding the curse. 

“Harry? What did Potter want?” Draco looked to Aurora and back to his father, and immediately knew whatever it was, wasn’t good. 

“Mr Potter asked to speak to Hermione alone.” Lucius’ displeasure at the arrangement was clear, but he was keeping his emotions tightly reigned. He looked preoccupied, and Draco was grateful. Keeping things from Lucius Malfoy was no easy task, and Draco would take any advantage he was given. 

Even so, he was relieved when Lucius left once again, and so was Aurora, as evidenced by her sigh of relief.

“It was your idea,” Draco reminded her, and she huffed, turning back to her work.

Not ten minutes later, Hermione stalked in through the single door, looking angry. 

“All right, Granger?” Draco smirked at her, if for no reason other than to provide some sense of normalcy in the day that had proven to be full of surprises. “Or did you lose another teacup?” 

“Oh shut up,” she snapped, staring moodily at one of the sheets. 

“What did Harry do this time?” Aurora looked up from her place in the far corner and Hermione jumped, as if she hadn’t realized the other witch was there.

“Aurora! Sorry, I forgot you were coming.” Her cheeks turned pink, and she shook her head, crossing her arms. “There have been more threats, and Harry and Lucius are determined to treat me like I’m defenseless.” 

“Those two of all should know you aren’t,” Aurora said, pushing her quill away and watching her former student. 

“Damn straight I’m not,” Hermione snapped, sitting heavily in an open chair next to the door. 

“But you can’t fault them for wanting to do all in their power to keep you safe regardless of your abilities.” Aurora cocked her head. “You would do the same for either of them, after all.” 

Draco could see her bite back a retort, but even he knew Aurora had a point. She’d made that much clear only last week. She sat in silence, her arms tightly crossed and lips pursed. Draco pushed away another smirk at the petulant picture, electing to turn back to his work.

Bigsy appeared some minutes later, handing a letter to Draco. He was beginning to feel as if he should have a revolving door installed. 

“Bigsy, is Harry gone?” Hermione brushed away the angry tears that had trickled down her cheeks, and Draco pretended not to notice. 

“Yes mistress,” the house elf chirped happily before disapparating with a  _ crack.  _ Flicking his thumb under the emerald green seal, he shook it open and read his father’s missive quickly. 

“You have got to be kidding me!” He glared up at where Hermione had been sitting, but it was already vacant. 

“Did Bigsy just call Hermione “Mistress?” Aurora raised her eyebrow at Draco, and he blinked several times in confusion. 

“No… She couldn’t have.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Bile rose in Draco’s throat, a wave of anger with it. He knew Aurora was watching him closely, but he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking around his quill. 

“It’s not Hermione’s fault. That much is clear.” She waved her hand at the sheets still on the wall, and Draco’s anger wilted. She was just as much a victim of fate as the rest of them. He sighed deeply, running both of his hands through his hair. 

“Father wants the Manor empty for a few days. Will you take these? I doubt I’ll have time to work on them over the next few days, and knowing what I know, I’d rather not leave them lying around.” Aurora looked surprised, but nodded. “I’ll owl you as soon as I talk to Tori. Can you make it back to the floo?” 

She snorted in a way that he never would have dreamt of hearing from his straight-laced professor, but they had long since passed that facet of their friendship. Draco smirked, and got to his feet, preparing the lies he would tell his father to keep up the act. 

***

December 24, 2006

Hope sniffed pathetically, her brown eyes -- so much like her sister's-- hidden behind her hands. Draco might have felt bad for the witch, if it wasn’t for her incredibly poor timing and the look he’d caught on Granger’s face as she fled the room. 

They were at Chateau de Malfoy in Paris, where Hermione, Lucius, Lucius’ cousin Marcel, Marcel’s son Mathieu, who was the current Hogwarts Potions Master, and Hope, who worked for Marcel in art restoration, were being housed. Rose had arrived less than twenty minutes before, having been summoned by Draco to help mitigate the current disaster. 

“Gods, Hope! What the hell were you thinking?” Rose’s anger was bubbling up again, and Draco pulled on her elbow gently, shaking his head. He knew from years of experience letting them scream it out wasn’t going to help matters. Astoria was standing back with her arms crossed, a look of calm detachment on her features and he looked pleadingly at her, jerking his head at Hope. 

Her answering look of reproach was enough to tell him that she was just as angry at the situation as Rose and Draco, but she sat down on the sofa beside the girl anyway, patting her shoulder comfortingly. Hope burst out into loud sobs, though Draco was willing to bet at this point she was embarrassed that she’d been caught snogging- or rather  _ trying  _ to snog- his father more than anything. 

“Rosie, let’s go. You need to take a breath.” He tugged her to the door leading to the hall, and the door had scarcely closed when she burst into tears herself. Thank Merlin Potter was gone, and his father was nowhere to be seen in the long hallway.

“Draco why the hell am I here acting like her mother? Why the hell is she acting like this?  _ Kissing Lucius?  _ Did Dad really damage us so much that we can’t function like normal humans? I don’t know if I can keep going like this!” Her eyes blazed with the fire he knew so well, and it pained him that he didn’t have a better answer than “I don’t know,” but that’s all he had, so that’s what he gave her. 

“I don’t like that answer!” Her hands were balled into fists, and she shook with anger. He pulled her against his chest, the familiar warmth of her in his arms lifting the weight on his shoulders. She felt powerless, and he did too, even in the face of what he now knew. 

“I know. I don’t either.” Honestly there was a lot more that he didn’t like, but he didn’t know how to tell her the rest. He still hadn’t even told Astoria of his discovery of his mother’s secret, and the weight of it exhausted him. “Come on. Let's get some lunch. Hopefully Granger will come to her senses, and Little Miss Sunshine stays out of the way for a while.” She nodded, screwing on a smile that would fool all but himself, and set off down the hall towards the drawing room that held the floo she’d come through. 

Draco went to the door of his father’s study, relieved to see Hope had disappeared, probably through the door to the adjoining drawing room, and Astoria had been reaching for the handle to join them in the hall. She shook her head, but kissed him gently, and allowed herself to be pulled down the hall to catch up with Rose. 

Just as they were about to round the corner, they heard Rose speaking to someone.

“Sorry my sister is a bitch. But then, you have to deal with Draco on a daily basis, so I’m sure you’re used to it.” 

Around the corner, Lucius and —thank Merlin— Hermione stood facing them, with Rose standing with her arms crossed and back to Draco and Astoria . It took a significant measure of willpower to not pull her into his side, so he pulled Astoria closer instead. 

“Hey! I’ll have you know she likes me just fine.” Draco joked, hoping Hermione wasn’t feeling particularly spiteful towards him after Hope’s display. Rose shifted to stand on his free side, close enough he could feel the heat of her body against his arm. 

“He just thinks that because I helped him with his Runes,” Hermione said in honeyed tones that didn’t suit her, and Lucius smirked. Draco couldn’t fight the scowl at the thought of what her help had uncovered. 

“I like you. Why didn’t we hang out with her in school?” Rose elbowed Draco in the ribs rather hard, and his eyes watered, even as she grinned.

“Because I was too busy beating you both out on my NEWTs,” Hermione prodded, and Astoria giggled at Draco’s elbow. 

“I’m starting to think my sister was crushing on the wrong half of this relationship,” Rose teased, and Draco rolled his eyes in tandem with his father. 

“I think it’s past time for dinner. Millie, Bigsy.” Lucius gave orders to the house elves, and they made their way down to lunch. 

***

It was fairly quiet, at least until Mathieu rather unceremoniously announced that Vivienne Beaulieu had been attacked. Hermione and Lucius fled the table, leaving Astoria, Rose, Marcel, Mathieu, and Draco staring at each other, unsure of how to proceed. 

Astoria was the first to break the silence. “You said she was hurt?” Her hand sought out Draco’s, and he held it tightly, waiting for Mathieu, who sat across the table to speak.

“She, and one of the aurors,” Mathieu confirmed. Draco’s stomach dropped, knowing full well that Axios would have done anything to save her, and it was likely that he was the one injured. “Fairview’s patronus did not say more.” 

Rose went white in her seat next to Mathieu, and Draco realized he hadn’t had a chance to fill her in on the dramatic love triangle, and didn’t know that Axios was protecting Viv. She had said it was a one time thing, but he didn’t know if her affections for Axios ran deeper. 

“I’m going.” Astoria yanked her hand from Draco’s, throwing her napkin across her plate, and rushing after Lucius and Hermione. Marcel looked around the table, now with a clear view of Draco from his place on Astorias other side. 

“Is it a good idea, letting her go alone?” Marcel had been silent until now, and Draco tried not to snap at the kind older man. He didn’t know Astoria. 

“She can take care of herself,” Draco told him calmly. “She has the ability to help, and any of us would simply get in her way.” He looked pointedly at Rose. “She knows what she’s doing.” 

“Do you really think knowing what she is doing is enough, with the other poor girl having a target painted on her back? Though I understand it she brought it upon herself, affiliating herself with--” 

Mathieu cut his father off with a slash of his hand. “Vivienne did nothing wrong!” Rose jumped at his spirited defense, and looked to Draco. 

“Rosie, would you come with me for a moment?” She needed as much information he could give her to navigate this house for the next week, and he’d be damned if he left her powerless. He dragged her into the nearest room once they were out of the dining room, and shut the door. 

“What the hell!” Rose’s face was still pale, and Draco ran his hands through his hair, turning to face her. 

“Rose, I need to know right now. Are you in love with Axios?” He met her eyes, and the warm brown depths drew him in, just as they always had. 

Her face flushed even more quickly than it blanched, and she glared at Draco. “What is it to you?” 

“Because he and Mathieu have been in an all out feud over Viv since the start of term, and I need to know if you’re about to lose your head because it looks like Viv is going to choose Axios, if they even survive this!” 

Rose slumped into the closest chair, burying her face in her hands. 

Draco let her process the information, and took the chair next to her, waiting patiently. For the first time since she arrived, he let himself take her in again. The way her hair curled at the ends and the soft grey of her jumper contrasting against her somehow still-tanned skin, despite the winter. 

He may have seen her within the month, but it felt like a lifetime. Draco reached out, stroking a lock of hair away from her face, wondering how he could tell her that her fate was entwined with his. How could he tell her that he knew what would become of their friendship? He was starting to understand why his mother had done nothing more than hint of her knowledge, referencing the translation but never outright explaining how she knew she would succumb to an unknown curse. 

“No, I’m not in love with him. I like him a lot, but I always knew I’d come second to Viv.” Her voice was small, and Draco moved closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She lay her head against his shoulder, and lowered her hands. “It wasn’t worth the fight.”

He squeezed her a bit tighter, and was relieved when she didn’t immediately pull away. 

"Happy birthday to me," she said bitterly, wiping her eyes with the end of her sleeve.

"Are you still not going to let me tell everyone else? Not even for cake?" 

"Please don't." Her shoulders began to shake, and Draco let her cry, knowing full well how much she hated her birthday. She'd once told him her diamond necklace was the best gift she'd ever received, and she didn't think anything could top it, so there was no point in trying. He'd tried, of course, and failed every time. Since her father's death, she begged him to leave it be. 

When he had floo called her to bring her here, he'd found her alone in her New York City flat, flipping through the only thing of her father's she'd kept; a photo album filled with pictures of her childhood. She hadn't been crying, but he had known then it was only a matter of time, and it was all coming out now. Her father’s abuse and death, her heartache over Axios, her guilt over Hope’s behavior all took their toll. So he did the only thing he could; he held her until the sobs slowed, and she sighed deeply.

“Okay. It’s fine. I’m fine. Just give me whatever else I need to stay here without saying something dumb. Hope isn’t sleeping with her boss, is she?”

Draco snorted, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “If she is, I don’t want to know.” 

***

They returned to the dining room a bit later to find the two Dumont men sitting in companionable silence. They’d evidently reconciled, and it was Marcel to suggest they wait for the others to return. 

In the drawing room, Draco and Rose took up one sofa, with Marcel across from them. Mathieu took a chair further away, and as the minutes ticked by, his casual, sprawling stance shifted until he was hunched over and in on himself. By the time Astoria and Hermione stepped back through the floo, he looked as if he’d taken ill with a terrible stomachache.

Astoria came through and immediately reached out for Draco, and he latched on, not intending to let her go. As much as he trusted her and her judgement, Marcel had touched a nerve, and he wanted nothing more than to keep her safe. 

Later that night, they finished a Christmas movie marathon in the home theater Draco had bullied his father into allowing just after Narcissa’s death. Draco sat stroking Astoria’s hair as the others filtered from the room. Lucius and Hermione were the first to go from the back corner, followed in short order by Mathieu and Hope, who had joined when Rose dragged her in to perform a special musical number in conjunction with  _ White Christmas.  _ Marcel hadn’t joined them, and Draco wasn’t sure what he’d been doing with the evening. Rose was sleeping on the floor, her face turned towards him, peaceful in her sleep. 

“If you could know where we’d be this time in five years, would you want to know?” Draco continued stroking Astoria’s hair, eyes glued to Rose’s eye lashes brushing her cheeks in the dim light. 

“The Slytherin in me says yes, that knowledge is power. The Ravenclaw in me says no, that the knowledge will change how I behave, and potentially the outcome. The Gryffindor tells me yes, go all in. The Hufflepuff tells me to enjoy what I have, and come what may, there’s no need to know.” Astoria nuzzled his shoulder, looking up with sleepy blue eyes that stole his breath. 

“So which one wins the house cup?” 

There was a long pause as she considered her answer. She turned her head, landing a kiss against his left forearm before whispering, “Hufflepuff.” 


	42. Whole Truths

“Are you sure you’re okay here while we’re at Vera and Clarence's?” 

“It’ll be fine. Mom’s just happy Hope and I are under the same roof, and it might be good for us.” Rose shrugged, lounging across the end of Draco and Astoria’s bed, still in a set of dark blue pajamas. It wasn’t as if she had planned to be with anyone this Christmas anyway. She could handle a few hours on her own. If anything, it might be nice to have a few hours of separation from Draco. 

Draco was fastening his shirt, watching her over his shoulder in the mirror. She could hear Astoria in the closet, and Rose was grateful she didn’t have to look perfect just for Hope. The expectations put on Astoria by her family were extreme, to say the least. Though, her dad had put similar expectations on her and Hope. They were expected to be excellent, and their shortcomings were unacceptable. Astoria’s parents had high expectations, but they’d never told her she was worthless because her transfiguration spell wasn’t fast enough, either. 

“You okay?” Draco was still watching her in the mirror. She rolled to her back, scrubbing her hands over her face. She always forgot how well he could read her. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just still can’t believe how stupid Hope was.” That much was true. 

“Well it’s not a mistake she’ll make twice,” he said lightly. Rose hummed in agreement, and settled the crook of her elbow over her eyes. It was quiet for a few heartbeats, until the mattress dipped near her feet. “You know you can talk to me about him.” 

Rose honestly wasn’t sure if he meant her dad, Axios, or the man that she’d left behind in New York. Whichever it was, the answer was the same. “I don’t want to talk about him.” His hand landed on her ankle, and she was glad he couldn’t see the tears gather in her eyes. 

“Ready?” Astoria’s voice came from near the closet door, and Rose didn’t move. She didn’t know if she could take the sheer perfection right now. Astoria had always been everything Rose wasn’t. Tall, slender, patient, pureblood, graceful, unbroken. She was what Draco needed, Rose knew that. But even after all this time, it still stung. Even worse was that she’d literally never given Rose a reason to hate her. “Rose, are you sure you don’t want to come? Daph and Blaise would love to see you, and it might give the rest of us a break from baby talk.” 

Rose finally moved her arm, sitting up and folding her legs under herself to dislodge Draco’s hand. “Nah, I should be here with Hope. Tell them I said hello, though. I’m sure I’ll get it at the party.” She’d been right. Astoria was a vision in deep blue robes, her hair swept up in a coiff that would have made Narcissa proud. Rose had never achieved anything half as elegant with her hair. 

Astoria gave her a hesitant smile. “Okay. We’ll be back in a few hours, before Father and Manny get into the eggnog.” 

“Honestly it's a shame we don’t start with the eggnog,” Draco whined. “It would make dinner so much more tolerable.” 

“Well you two have fun, I’ll see you in a couple hours,” Rose popped off the bed and made for the hall before Astoria could chide Draco. Instead of returning to her room though, she counted three down and knocked. She waited for a minute, hearing Draco and Astoria heading the opposite direction down the hall before knocking again. The door swung open, and she poked her head in. 

“Come on. You’re not allowed to wallow all day.” Hope groaned from under the covers. “If you don’t get up I’m going to drag you out. You have half an hour to get dressed.” 

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” Hope’s head emerged from the sea of white bedding. “If it was Draco--” Rose backed into the hall and slammed the door in response. She let her shoulders droop, shaking her head. 

“Sisters, no?” Rose jumped, spinning to find Draco’s cousin in the doorway to the next room. He looked vaguely amused at her reaction. “My apologies. I did not mean to startle you.” 

“Good hell you’re worse than Draco,” Rose panted, her heart pounding in her ears. The man smiled, and Rose immediately noticed how much he looked like Draco when he did. “If you have a sister, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” She glared at the door, and looked back to Mathieu. He’d lost his smile for a melancholy air, and she cringed internally. 

“You would miss her if she was gone,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. 

“True, but it doesn’t mean I can’t be annoyed with her now,” she shot back, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. Something about his eyes made her feel as if she was being stripped bare. He cocked his head, and shrugged. “What do you do all day?” Her curiosity got the best of her, and she couldn’t help herself. He appeared for meals, and Draco had retrieved him from somewhere for the movie marathon last night, but other than that, she hadn’t seen him much. 

“I have been working on some potions for my classes next term,” he said slowly, as if he was gauging her reaction. But she just nodded. Astoria had told her that he was the one that took over for Slughorn. Or had it been Hermione? She couldn’t remember, but she was intrigued now. He went on, “it keeps my mind and hands busy.” 

“I haven’t brewed much since school,” she admitted. “A few odds and ends, but nothing interesting. What are you working on?” 

“Would you like to come see for yourself?” 

“Uh… Sure, why not?” She looked down at her bare feet and pajamas. “Let me just change first.” He inclined his head, so she crossed the hall and ducked into her own room, letting out a long breath. He could put Lucius to shame with the intensity of his eyes, but at least she knew where she stood with Lucius. Or she thought she did… She wasn’t so sure what would happen if the truth came out. 

***

Several hours later, Rose was sitting cross-legged on a counter of the potions workroom Mathieu had been using when Draco came in. Mathieu was leaning against the counter across from her, and they were laughing over a story she’d told him about the potion’s master at Ilvermorny. Hope had been there for a while, but wandered off after an hour or two. 

“This looks cozy,” Draco said with an arched eyebrow. 

“Not really. Granite isn’t particularly comfortable.” Rose shifted to make her point, and Mathieu chuckled. Draco glanced between the two, and Rose jerked her head. Draco didn’t look like he believed her, but he moved on. 

“We’re thinking some games might be fun. Marcel and Hope are already in. How about it?” Rose hopped down from the counter eagerly. 

“Only if I get to beat your ass in Pictionary. Come on Matt!” She waited for him to cast a freezing charm over the cauldron and led the way from the room. The trio got to the parlor just in time for Lucius to step out of the floo. Draco and Rose were still attempting to talk him into playing when Hermione stepped through a minute later. 

Rose managed to get Hermione and Lucius on her side for Pictionary over charades, and several rounds later, she found herself carefully watching the people around her. Lucius and Hermione seemed to be in a world all their own, and Rose couldn’t help but notice how different he was with Hermione than he had been with Narcissa. She couldn’t remember a single instance of casual affection between Draco’s parents, but Lucius was nearly always touching Hermione somehow. 

Hope shrunk away from Lucius and Hermione, not interacting unless necessary, and then kept putting Marcel between the couple and herself. The older man didn’t seem to notice the subtle maneuvering, though even if he had, Rose would have bet he would have done it himself. He seemed oddly protective of her sister, almost like a father over a daughter. Mathieu seemed to be uncomfortable with his father’s interactions with Hope, though he tried to hide it, keeping Draco and Astoria between himself and his father. 

That left Rose between Mathieu and Lucius, which suited her just fine. Draco had been abnormally affectionate with Astoria, which unsettled Rose for a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on. There was a tension in the room that Rose was fairly certain would come to a head sooner than later, and she hoped she was far away when it did. 

***

December 29, 2006

“Cassia, Anthony, this is Marcel and Mathieu Dumont, and Anthony you might remember Rose and Hope Hollingsworth.” Lucius was introducing them to a handsome couple that stepped through the floo moments earlier. 

“Cassia is designing and making Hermione and Astoria’s dresses for the ball, and they’re two of my closest friends. Marcel’s mother was my father’s sister. Mathieu is his oldest son, and the potion’s master at Hogwarts.” 

The couple, tall and statuesque, smiled warmly at the group. Rose thought they looked familiar but couldn’t place them. 

“I think you all know their son Axios,” Lucius went on, and understanding dawned on Rose. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed it. His mother had the same dark curls and eyes, and his father carried himself with the same confidence. Rose watched Draco’s eyes flick to Mathieu next to her, and a heartbeat later, he cleared his throat. 

“Excuse me, but I have work to do. It was lovely to meet you.” He nodded sharply at the Fairviews, and left the room. Hope was the next one to bolt, no doubt remembering the day their parent’s darkest secrets had been dictated out to half of the Board of Governors at Hogwarts, including Lucius and Anthony. Rose’s stomach was roiling, but she couldn’t seem to make her mouth work to make excuses and leave. Marcel followed her, and Rose was left feeling ill and quite alone. 

“Hermione and Astoria are in the drawing room at the end of the hall, they thought it would be best for you, Cassia. Rose, would you take her down?” Lucius gestured to the door. Rose’s throat was dry, so she just smiled and nodded, earning her an amused glance from Draco. She elbowed him in the ribs as she passed, but the woman beside her didn’t seem to notice. 

Halfway down the hall, Rose managed to find her voice again. “How is Axios? I haven’t seen him since last fall.” 

“Oh he’s doing so well. He’s very happy to have Vivienne at the school, and he was able to spend most of the summer in Greece with my parents. I think it was good for him to get away. I think the last time I heard your name, you were in New York?” 

“Yes, I live in New York. I work for the ICW.” Rose wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was panic or dread that Axios had told his mother about her. 

“That’s right. I do love New York in the autumn. Central Park is just lovely when the leaves turn.” 

“Here we are!” Rose threw open the door, spotting Hermione and Astoria. They greeted Cassia easily, and Rose slipped back out the door, fully intending to check on Hope, but found herself being pulled into a room with a piano as if by a giant magnet instead. “Matt?” 

The blue sweater and the golden waves were unmistakable, but he stood so stiffly at the window that he could have been a mannequin. He turned, the cold expression on his face relaxing slightly. He nodded, and turned right back to the window. Rose shut the door behind her softly.

“Care to share what’s bothering you?” Rose leaned against the closed door, crossing her arms across her chest. Since Christmas, they’d been friendly, talking over his cauldron as he worked or next to a fire. Mostly about the differences between the wizarding schools, her work as an educational liaison, and books they’d read. She’d come to like him, despite his obvious reluctance to share anything personal. She understood the need for privacy. 

When he didn’t answer, she closed her eyes. “Is it about Viv?” He didn’t answer, so she forged on, eyes still tightly closed. “I liked Axios, once upon a time. I was there when she wasn’t, once. I think I liked him because he was everything Draco wasn’t, and I thought it would fix me. Of course that was one of the worst mistakes of my life, because of her.”

Rose opened her eyes to find Mathieu looking at her incredulously. “If you’d known them in school, you’d understand. We all knew they’d end up together. You didn’t know, so at least you had that going for you. I  _ knew,  _ and I still got in the middle. Do yourself a favor and forget about her. She’ll break your heart just like she broke his.” She turned back to the door, but he laughed. A short, cold bark.

“Too late.” She turned to look, but he was already facing the window again. She shook her head, and forgetting about Hope entirely, went to find Astoria, hoping that she would remind her exactly why she was in the position she was now. Of course, as luck would have it, a new addition had been made to the room. Hermione and Viv sat with their backs to the door, watching Astoria on a raised platform in the middle of the room. 

“You’re quite the snake tamer,” Hermione was saying to the pretty redhead. 

“Oh this sounds fun!” These two would be too easy to tease, and Rose took her chance, taking a seat to their right. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Both women had nearly jumped out of their skin at her appearance. Rose watched in satisfaction as the blush rose in their cheeks. It was too easy; a few jokes about Draco, and getting Hermione riled up about Harry Potter was fun, too. Hermione turned a particularly violent shade of red when Rose alluded to the conversation in her office. Viv was particularly susceptible when Rose prodded at Axios, but evidently commenting on his body was too much, and she was fleeing the room with Hermione on her arm. 

Astoria glared from her spot on the platform, and Rose shrugged unapologetically. 

“You’re done, dear. Go ahead and change.” Axios’ mother hadn’t been as easy to ruffle as the two younger women, but she avoided looking in Rose’s direction, instead busying herself with a garment bag that presumably held another gown, because she held it up to Hermione as she came back in without Viv. Astoria changed in record time, and she emerged to drag Rose from the room by her arm as Hermione disappeared behind the partition. 

“Seriously, Rose?” It came out as a low hiss, and Rose rolled her eyes. 

“Oh come on, they’re fine. They need to lighten up.” Astoria let go to throw the door open, and strode out with Rose close on her heels. They were met by Axios wrapped protectively around Viv, his shock quickly morphing into a hard look as Rose stopped in her tracks. He deposited Viv in the room with his mother, and was back out a moment later, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. 

“I should have fucking known. What did you say to her?” Axios had been too thin the previous October, but now he was a solid block of muscle, and he stood squarely between the door and the two women. His mother had been right, he seemed…  _ better. _

Rose tossed her hair over one shoulder, aiming for an unconcerned air. 

“Rose, I swear to Merlin if you--” 

“Oh please. Like anything I could say would change her mind--”

“Rose! What the hell has gotten into you?” Astoria looked angry now, and Rose silently celebrated. Anything to make her less…  _ perfect.  _ Rose did love her like a sister, but spending this much time with them was wearing on Rose. “She didn’t say anything bad, I think Viv just got a bit overwhelmed.” Astoria stepped between the two, angling towards Axios. 

“Tori, will you excuse us, please?” Axios’ voice was tight, and some part of Rose hoped he would snap, finally yell and let out the hurt that she knew he was still burying. If he could do it… Maybe she could too. 

Astoria didn’t move, just looked hard at Axios. “We just need to talk, Tori. Please.” Axois’ voice softened, and she seemed to take that as enough, because she re-entered the drawing-room-turned-seamstress-shop. 

Axios dropped his head until the door closed, and Rose took in his inky curls, the set of his shoulders, and the tension in his jaw as he looked up. 

“She broke your heart, and you’re just going to let it all go?” Rose crossed her arms, shaking her head. 

“Right, because  _ you  _ can talk,” he shot back. “Livvy and I aren’t you and Draco.”

“Aren’t you, though? We’ve all been dancing around each other for  _ years.  _ And you’re letting her waltz in like it’s nothing! She hurt you, she hurt Matt, and she’s--”

“And you didn’t hurt Draco? Over and over?” He pointed down the hall towards the room where Draco and his father were playing a round of chess.

“I did it because he--”

“Don’t you dare say he’s better without you, Rose. You’re not here every time you leave.” 

“And what’s going to happen to you when Viv leaves you again?” Rose felt the tears well up at the chord he’d struck. 

“Then I’ll still be here, because I love her, and nothing will change that!” 

“Why do you think I keep coming back?” The tears finally spilled down her cheeks, and she turned on her heel, desperate to get away from the heartbreaking truth. She still loved Draco, and she always would. 

***

Rose was determined to not to allow her feelings to rule her tongue again, but an hour and a half later, she was sitting at the dining table, sandwiched between Mathieu and Axios, sitting across from Astoria, and emotions were running high. She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten here, but she had one hand on Matthieu and the other on Axios, hoping the gentle pressure would keep them both in their seats, rather than with their wands at each other's throats.

“You can let go now,” Viv snapped from Axios’ other side, her eyes promising her wand would be drawn if Rose didn’t obey. Rose let go of Axios, but held on a fraction tighter to Mathieu. The argument grew, everyone glaring and snapping at someone else until Draco snapped at Mathieu.

“Matt knock it off! We’ve been telling you since day one she’d pick him!” 

“Draco, don’t be a dick! How would Tori feel if you picked me?” Rose tightened her hand on Mathieu’s arm.

“But I didn’t pick you!” 

“Exactly, you asshole! It fucking hurts, so let him be angry!” Rose was holding on by a thread.  _ If only he knew how much it hurt.  _

Hope cut in, and Rose nearly lost her head. “You left him, don’t act like you didn’t have a choice! I watched you cry for months. Why do you think I went back to dad? Because I couldn’t take you playing the martyr anymore! It took them to snap me out of it!” Rose watched her gesture at Lucius, and the weight of her sister's words pulled her under. It was her fault. She’d left to protect Hope, and yet had been the one to drive her back to their abuser. The bickering continued, but Rose just stared at Hope, remorse and guilt drowning out everything else. 

“Enough!“We are all adults here, and the dinner table is not the place to air out our dirty laundry.” Lucius had stood at some point, but Rose couldn’t breathe. It had been all her fault. If she had stayed… What would have been different if she had stayed? Would it be Rose sitting next to Draco now, instead of Astoria?

She felt Mathieu’s arm tense under her fingers, and she realized that she’d been clawing at him. Belatedly relaxing her hand, she focused again in time to hear Mathieu growl, “He could not even find it within himself to be with her on one of the worst nights of her life.”

“That is not your place, Mathieu.” Viv was crying now, but Rose found it hard to feel sorry for her, after what she did to Axios.

“What are you talking about? I was there the night her father died!” Axios leaned forward, and Rose pushed down the temptation to reach out for him again. 

“You were with them when Hazel died! Neville told me! You were there drinking with them instead of being with me when I needed you!” Rose blinked as Viv unleashed on Axios, realizing that she’d been there, and Axios  _ had  _ gone to her. 

“He was arresting the bastard that killed her, Viv.” Rose wasn’t sure how she sounded so calm, but she was grateful, even if she couldn’t look up to meet Draco’s eyes.

“How would you know?” Viv glared at Rose, who didn’t see as she finally let go of Mathieu’s arm, folding her hands in her lap, eyes downcast. 

“Rose, don’t.” Axios pleaded, but Rose shook her head. She was swimming in guilt, and she would never forget how Axios had held on to her that night, as if he would break right in two if he let go.

“She has a right to know,” she shot back at him, her head snapping up to look past him to the woman that had driven him into her arms that night. “I know because I’m the one that kept him from drinking himself half to death that night. He arrested him, and when he went to the hospital, he was told that you didn’t want to see him!” 

“What? I didn’t… I wouldn’t…” Viv looked frantically around the table and back at Axios, who looked as if he was going to crumble, just as he had that night. 

“Who told you that?” 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Some healer.” 

“I only talked to Agnes, and she never would have…”

“Viv…” Astoria looked thunderstruck, and Rose had to look away. “Ben was on that night. He could have told everyone. They wouldn’t have questioned it.” 

“Axios you were the only person I wanted. You were always the one I wanted. This whole time you thought I didn’t? How could you act like my friend when you thought I did that?” 

Her sobs ripped a hole through Rose’s heart, and at her admission, Mathieu stood, leaving the room without looking back. Rose looked up to see the anger on Draco’s face, and followed Mathieu a heartbeat later. She couldn’t take him looking at her like that. Not now. 

Not now she knew the whole truth, and it was her fault. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Who guessed that Rose was still madly in love with Draco? Is she going to do anything about it? 
> 
> Huge thank you to those of you still sticking it out for this story, I appreciate every single kudos and comment. 
> 
> XOXO,
> 
> Ruby


	43. Still

Draco held on to Astoria as tightly as he dared, trying to process what had happened at the table. Part of him wanted to chase after Rose and demand what that had been all about, but the other part of him saw Axios cradling Viv, and he couldn’t bring himself to let go of Astoria. 

Around the table, Granger was sniffling pathetically into his father’s chest, Marcel was comforting Hope, and the Fairviews were holding on to each other tightly. 

“We need to talk.” Astoria whispered from where her nose was buried in Draco’s neck. He nodded, knowing he couldn’t keep the prophecy from her any longer. 

“Come on.” He pulled her to the door. “We have to go see Aurora.” If Astoria was confused, she didn’t show it. She just followed him to the floo, stepping through first to the manor, and then through to her quarters at Hogwarts. 

The quarters had once been Severus’, and Draco had to admit, they were considerably more welcoming now than they ever had been then. The dungeons had a bad rap for being cold and foreboding, but her spacious rooms were anything but. The black leather sofas had throw pillows and blankets in shades of blue, green, and purple, while candles and a large, cheery fire kept the rooms comfortably warm. Shelves lined the walls, and the ceiling was charmed to look like the night sky, much like the great hall. 

“Aurora!” Draco’s yell was almost immediately answered with the sound of a slamming door somewhere. Astoria, to her credit, just took a seat in one of the leather armchairs and waited patiently. 

The door on the far side of the room opened, and Eric, Aurora’s husband stepped out. “Hullo Draco, Astoria. Sorry to say, Aurora’s not here.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish. 

“I don’t need her so much as I need the rune sheets she was holding for me. Do you know what she did with them?” Draco caught Astoria’s look of confusion, but still she stayed quiet. Eric’s eyebrows pulled together, and he stroked his jaw with the backs of his fingers thoughtfully. 

“She had some the other day she took up to her office. Honestly she might be up there now, Minerva came and got her quite some time ago. Something about a Slytherin and a Gryffindor.” 

Draco snorted. “Well good to know some things never change. We’ll find her. Thanks, Eric.” Draco pulled open the door across from the one Eric had come through, and ushered Astoria through it and into the chilly corridor. 

“I think some answers would be good, Draco,” Astoria said quietly as they passed the entrance to their old common room. 

“I found something out, just before Christmas. About Mother, Father, us, Rose… Even Granger.” He paused, and took a shaking breath. “Really it was Granger that figured it out. She just didn’t realize how much she uncovered, thank Salazar.” Draco stopped in the hallway as chatter reached them. Two young students, maybe second years appeared on the stairs leading up towards the basements. They froze when they saw the two adults, but only one of them seemed to recognize Draco. 

“Have you seen Professor Sinistra?” Astoria stepped forward, drawing their attention. Both students shook their heads and hurried past. 

Draco waited until they were halfway up the stairs themselves before continuing. “It will make more sense when you can see it, but the runes Rose and I started working on in our eighth year belong to the Malfoy family.” Astoria stopped, her eyes wide. “Come on. You need to see some of it.” Draco reached out for her, and she took his hand, easing his anxiety a bit. 

He didn’t remember the last time they walked hand in hand, but it seemed fitting that they’d do it through the halls of the Hogwarts Castle. 

“Draco?” Neville came around a corner, looking confused. “Tori?” 

“Nev. Have you seen Aurora?” Draco tightened his hold on Astoria as Neville’s expression darkened. 

“One of her Slytherins attacked one of my Gryffindors an hour ago. She was with Minerva last I saw her, but I’d try the hospital wing.”

Astoria stepped forward, genuine concern plastered on her features. “What happened? Can I help?” 

Neville’s shoulders fell slightly. “Lucy will be okay, I think it’ll be harder on her emotionally than physically. She was protecting her little brother. He’s a third year Hufflepuff. I was bringing his friend back down, he was afraid to come on his own.” Neville rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m glad Viv wasn’t here. She’s going to lose it when she finds out, though.” 

Astoria’s eyes widened. “What happened, Nev?” 

He was already walking in the direction of the main staircases, Astoria dragging Draco along behind her. 

“It was just like Hazel. Minerva’s waiting for an Auror, they’re expelling him, and he’ll probably be tried.” Neville sounded tired, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

They followed him in silence, and Draco could hear crying before they even reached the doors of the ward. Astoria rushed forward, and Draco had to restrain himself from restraining her. Neville stepped aside to allow her in, and followed Draco, stopping with him just inside the doors. 

A girl, probably a seventh year, Draco guessed, was curled on her side, clutching a pillow to her abdomen and crying loudly. Hannah knelt at her side, holding one of her hands. A small boy, probably the brother, was curled up in a ball on the bed behind her, Aurora holding him close to her side and stroking his hair. 

Draco felt as if the air was being sucked from the room. They were just children. This chapter was supposed to be over. The war had already been fought, hadn’t it? 

Draco couldn’t tear his eyes from the boy in Aurora’s arms. He was so small. Draco watched as Astoria knelt beside Hannah, wand in hand. It always amazed him to see the confidence and compassion she exuded as she worked, each flick and flourish of her wand controlled with expert precision. As he watched, she summoned several vials and coaxed the girl to drink. 

Her cries quieted, and Astoria brushed the girls hair back, whispering unintelligibly to her. Draco’s throat tightened, and he turned away, addressing Neville. “Axios and Viv were with my father. They should be here.”

“I sent Axios a patronus. They’re probably on their way.” Neville shook his head. “Sorry you had to see this, mate.”

Draco shook his head right back. “I’m sorry this is still happening.” He couldn’t help but feel angry that the prophecy he was handed didn’t tell him how to fix the world. What good was knowing the future if it couldn’t be used to help? 

***

Astoria let Viv take over when she arrived, and Hannah took Aurora’s place with the boy when the girl finally fell into a potion-prompted sleep, allowing Aurora to lead the way to her office and hand over the translations. She didn’t stay for the explanation, instead telling Draco to lock up when they were finished and to come by for a drink later. 

Astoria watched her leave, and then turned her eyes back to Draco. They were guarded, careful, and he felt a rush of regret for withholding the prophecy from her. 

“Tori…” His throat tightened, and he took a shaky breath. 

“Mother knew she was going to die. It’s a curse and it’s going to be broken but—“ He was cut off when she held up a hand to silence him. 

“I meant what I said, Draco. The Hufflepuff in me is still winning. I don’t want to know.” Astoria’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and Draco opened his arms, stifling a sob when she wrapped her arms around him in return. “I love you, and that’s all that matters right now.” Her grip around him tightened, but he could feel her hands shaking. 

“I love you, Tori. So much.” He kissed her forehead, his own tears wetting her hair. He held her for a long time, unwilling to let go even to sit. He stroked her hair, and wondered if this is how his mother felt for the years preceding her death; helpless and angry that there was nothing she could do to stop her fate. 

“Draco?” Astoria sounded resigned, and he tried not to let his shoulders droop. How much did she remember from all the times she’d looked over the sheets with him? 

“Who else knows? About the runes?” That hasn’t been the question he’d been expecting. 

“Granger was the one to figure out they were ours. It was Father’s ring that confirmed it, but I don’t think they realized what it all meant. Aurora knows, but that’s it.” He held her tucked tightly under his chin, afraid to look at her and break into sobs again. 

“Can we keep it that way? At least until…” She trailed off, and Draco could feel her uncertainty. He just nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and taking another shuddering breath. Her grip tightened again, and then she was pulling away. “We still need to talk about Rose.” 

Draco’s stomach twisted, and he realized that without telling her of the prophecy, he couldn’t explain the rest either. 

“Did you know?” Her eyes were guarded again, and she crossed her arms between them, as if she was shielding herself from an unwanted answer. 

“No, I didn’t.” Draco wished he still didn’t; it made everything just that much more complicated. 

“Do you still love her?” It wasn’t an accusation, but he knew she already knew the answer. 

“I always will.” He felt a crushing guilt at the admission, but Astoria just nodded. 

“She should have the same choice that I do. To decide if she wants to know what the runes mean or not.” 

He nodded, and she cast her eyes around the room that they’d once spent so much time together in. She reached out, a sad smile on her lips as she stroked the doorframe. “All those times you looked up as I came through this door. I’ll never forget it. Every time I wondered if one day I’d get you to myself.” 

Draco bit his tongue to keep himself from blurting the truth, but she reached for his hand, and led them back to Aurora’s chambers in silence. 

***

Draco found Rose in Mathieu’s work room, though his cousin was nowhere to be seen. She had her back to him, but he knew she was perfectly aware of who stood behind her. 

“Do you want to know how it turns out? What happens to us?” He didn’t know what he would do if he had to explain it to her, but Astoria was correct. She had the right to choose. 

“I figured it out a long time ago. I was just waiting for you to learn the truth.”

Draco’s chest seized, and it was all he could do to not fall to his knees. “Rosie…” 

“Please don’t, Draco. I knew, and I still came back. Over and over. Because one of these times it will matter if I’m here or not. The time will come and I already know I sacrifice myself so you and Tori make it.” 

She spun to face him, her eyes burning with an intensity he hadn’t seen in years. 

“I will keep coming because I love you still.” 


	44. Sacrifice for Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for such a long pause between chapters, but on top of my Muggle job in a pandemic (that my state is now a hotspot for) I wrote and rewrote this chapter like 4 times because I couldn’t get it right. 
> 
> So without further ado...

Before he heard her say it aloud, he was still trying to convince himself that he’d read it wrong; that it was incorrect and he was overreacting. Now she’d said it and there was no denying it. 

“Sacrifice for a love of truth

On dragon’s wing will the bird finally fly

With grace will the rose whither, 

No more trapped in distant past.” 

It sounded worse in her voice, recited word for word, long ago memorized. He felt as if his chest was being crushed, and her sad eyes just made it worse. 

“I don’t care what they say! I’m not going to let you die Rosie.” Draco’s voice was hoarse and ragged, his breathing labored. He couldn’t face the prospect of a life without her. She was just as much part of his heart as Astoria. Was he going to be forced to choose between the two women that made his life worth living?

“It’s not your choice, Draco. This is why your mother didn’t tell you she knew she was going to die either.” Rose crossed her arms tightly across her chest, angling herself away from him. “She wrote a letter that I got after she died. It’s what finally made me realize that it was talking about us.” Draco watched her squeeze her eyes closed. 

“The love of a man born of light

Devoured by darkness

A moonlight sister of the dark

Doomed to end apart.   
  


It will start with the daughter

Born a shining light between grey

Her duty will tear asunder the crux of life

Though love abound in time.

Her love will lead

A lie turns tides

Dark turned light will fade

Her blood run cold

The curse of the ancients

Seeking recompense

Life for Death

Death for Life.” 

Rose’s voice was steady as she recited the prophecy of Narcissa’s death. The words Draco had read so many times over made his stomach turn. Narcissa had been the key to it all, and she’d kept it from them. 

“You should talk to Lucius,” she said quietly. “He needs to know and I can’t--” For the first time since he’d come through the door, she faltered. “I can’t do it.” Twin tears slid free from beneath her lids, and Draco ached to kiss them away as he once had, but his sense of duty to Astoria kept him frozen in place. 

“Rosie you can’t leave me again.” The plea broke something within him, and tears of his own trickled down his cheeks. She opened her own eyes, and stepped closer, reaching up to swipe his tears away. 

“I’m not going anywhere tonight. But please talk to Father.” 

He trapped her hand against his cheek with one of his, locking gazes with her. Her brown eyes held so much pain, but also a quiet resignation he hadn’t seen since the day her father had stormed through Hogwarts and she’d been forced to recount years of abuse. “I love you, Rosie.” 

“I know.” She gave him a sad smile, and gently pulled her hand free. Brushing past him, she left him alone in the workroom. Draco wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but his collar was soaked through when he sank into a chair across from his father, not caring that Granger was perched in his lap or that she was hearing him pour his heart out. He was actually grateful to her when she brought tea, and held his father’s hand as the despair Draco felt crept into his father’s eyes. When he’d left them, she was holding his hand tightly in both of hers, tears sparkling in her lashes. 

Draco had gone back to the room he shared with Astoria, standing in the shadows and watching her breathe steadily in her sleep. When he couldn’t stand straight any longer, he’d slipped into bed behind her, cradling her close. 

“I love you. So much,” he whispered into the dark. 

***

“Who is to say sacrifice means death,  _ mon petit dragon _ ?” Sabine Malfoy’s words echoed through his head as he flipped through ancient tomes on his family. If he could just find this ancient curse… And maybe his grandmother was right. A sacrifice for love could mean all sorts of actions, not just one ending in Rose’s death. 

He hung on to every shred of hope that he wouldn’t be the end of her life. 

The next days were filled with research, and he scarcely stopped for food or sleep, electing to stay in the library at the manor, rather than face his father, Astoria, or Rose. He could hear the preparations for the New Years Ball, but it didn’t occur to him that it was upon them until Rose entered the library in a ballgown. 

“Tori is going to kill you if Hermione doesn’t reach you first,” she smiled wanly. “You’ve got just over an hour until guests start arriving, and I’ve got it on good authority that it  _ still  _ takes you that long to get ready. I thought an extra decade would help you cut that back a tad, but apparently not.” 

“I don’t care about the ball,” he said tiredly, running a hand through his fine hair and averting his eyes from the goldenrod gown that alluded to her old ribbons. 

“I know you don’t. But your father and Hermione do, and I know Astoria has been worried about you. Come for her, if not for them.” She leaned against the table that was covered in stacks of books, her arms crossed tightly across her chest again. “Please,” she added softly. 

Draco hung his head in defeat. “Fine,” he conceded. “But only if I get the first dance with you over Mathieu.”

She snickered. “I don’t think that will be a problem. We haven’t talked much since the dinner fiasco.” She grew somber, smoothing one hand over the pages of a book beside her. “He really fell hard for Viv and she… Well…” Rose trailed off, and Draco stayed quiet. Viv had made her choice, much like he had. 

“I’ll go get ready,” he grumbled, and she turned a bright smile to him. It hit him like a kick to the gut, and he stopped, trying to memorize her at that moment. Her hair was swept up off her neck, and she was wearing a touch of makeup to make her eyelashes look impossibly long and dark, framing her doe-brown eyes. A light blush stained her cheeks at his intense gaze, and she patted her hair nervously. 

“What? Did I miss something?” 

“No. No you didn’t.” He stopped, shaking his head. “I’ll meet you down here in a bit.” He left her still leaning against the table, pushing away the memory of a stolen transfiguration text and a red ribbon fluttering to the floor. 

***

_ December 31, 2006 _

  
  


Rose watched him go, a lump forming in her throat. She thought it would be easier, once he knew. But he was so stubborn and hard-headed. She really should have known better, really. He never was good at letting go of control. But then, neither was Lucius. Like father , like son. 

Lucius had sought her out the morning after Draco had told him of the prophecy. Though they’d gotten closer over the years, that had been the first time he’d opened his arms to her for a hug. She’d taken it without hesitation, and cried unabashedly into his chest. She couldn’t believe she’d ever thought the man to be cold as he stroked her hair, letting her cry herself hoarse in the château library. 

She didn’t know if anyone had heard, or where Hermione or Hope or Mathieu had been, but she didn’t care, either. The steady support of a father that loved her in his own way had been what she’d needed, and she hadn’t shed a single tear since. He’d given her the assurance that in name or blood or not, he considered her to be his, and that was enough. He’d kissed the top of her head and told her to take her time before leaving her. 

She’d curled up in a chair near one of the sweeping windows, staring out across the gardens until the sun faded and the stars twinkled above the city of light. She’d become accustomed to solitude in New York, and was relieved when nobody bothered her, leaving her to her thoughts and memories. 

She still hadn’t told Hope, or faced Astoria. She didn’t know what she’d say to either of them, but knew it would come sooner or later. 

As she’d dressed for the ball, she’d looked at the black dress she’d chosen, and decided it wasn’t right. With a flick of her wand, she’d changed it to a bright yellow, and took out the diamond necklace that she cherished more than anything else. She never wore it in front of Draco or Astoria, thinking it was in poor taste. But she always had it on her, usually tucked into her bra, secured with a sticking charm over her heart. 

Tonight it was tucked under the high halter neck of her dress, and as Draco disappeared through the stacks, she pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the gem bite into her skin. She dropped her hand with a sigh, and began to wander around the library, trailing her fingers along the spines of the books. 

“You look like Belle.” Rose jumped, finding Hope framed between two shelves. “The yellow dress, feeling up books.” She laughed shortly, coming closer. Her own baby-pink dress was made of layers of chiffon, draped to resemble a Grecian gown, her blonde curls loose over her shoulders. “You even tamed the beast of the castle. Who would have thought my crabby big sister would turn out to be a princess?” 

Rose snorted. “Is the beast here Lucius or Draco? Because I didn’t tame either of them. That was all Narcissa. And Hermione, I suppose.” She shrugged, and Hope rolled her eyes. 

“You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better. But I saw the note Lucius sent you last time I was in New York. You should probably find a better hiding place than your underwear drawer.” Hope smirked, dodging Rose’s swipe at her easily. 

“I’m sorry for what I said at dinner. It wasn’t your fault I went back to Dad’s. I never was as strong as you. I couldn’t stand up to him like you did. I thought maybe if I went back he’d see what he’d done wrong and we could be a family again…” Hope stopped, swallowing hard. “I’ll never forget the day Mrs Malfoy made me realize I didn’t have to be the one to fix him. I wish I could have thanked her properly.” Rose nodded. She wished the same a million times since Hope had moved to Paris. 

Hope looked to Rose, and Rose shook her head. “I’ll never get over the fact that my baby sister is taller than me.” They both laughed, and Rose captured Hope in a tight hug. “You really should get to know Matt. I think you’d get along really well, and Marcel would be thrilled.” 

Hope shook her head. “I don’t think he likes me much.” 

“I think it has less to do with you and more to do with his sister. Really. Talk to him tonight. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Rose let go, and tugged on one of Hope’s curls. “If nothing else, sticking with him will probably keep you out of the line of fire.” Hope rolled her eyes. 

“I was going to settle for hiding in some forgotten alcove to avoid Hermione… And Lucius… And anyone I might have known at Hogwarts.” 

“There’s a really nice one with a Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot painting in it on the east side of the ballroom,” Rose offered, and Hope grinned. 

“You know me too well.” 

“I know. I’ll even sneak you some snacks later.” Hope laughed and exited the library, while Rose watched her go. She followed, but was drawn to an office down the hall. It had once been Narcissa’s, but had slowly been taken over by Draco. She looked around the room from the doorway, her eyes roaming every bit that was  _ Draco _ . 

Her breath caught when she caught sight of his desk. On one side sat a photograph of Astoria, taken as she flew in a graceful arc through the air over Draco, his wide smile visible for only a flash as the photograph looped. On the other was a bronze plaque, engraved with a dragon with its tail holding tightly to a rose. Her throat burned, and she swore that they would have a photo taken together before the night was up. 

Draco found her just as the first guests were arriving, and she looked him up and down appreciatively. “You clean up nice,” she teased, and he smirked, throwing on his long-discarded mark of haughty indifference. 

“I suppose.” He dropped it just as quickly as he donned it, leaning in close to kiss her cheek. “But you look magnificent.” Heat flooded her cheeks and she looked away quickly. 

“Where’s Astoria?” 

“Daphne fire-called her. Apparently she hates the maternity dress she picked out and needed assistance. She’ll be here later.” 

“Ah.” Suddenly not having Astoria close by felt wrong, and she was unsure of what to do next. Luckily the awkward silence was short lived as Neville and his fiancée joined them. Draco was pulled away by a work associate, and the next time she saw him, Astoria had taken her place on his arm. They looked striking together, her green gown the color of the apples he loved against stormy, metallic grey dress robes. 

Their attention was drawn to the center of the ballroom, where Lucius stood, thanking his guests. She watched as Hermione joined him, smiling a dazzling smile up at him. “They look so happy it’s gross,” she murmured to Pansy, who snickered. 

“Who’d have guessed Draco gets his goo-goo eyes from his father? I’d have bet a pretty Knut they came from the Blacks, but then…” Pansy trailed off, watching Lucius sweep Hermione around in a graceful waltz. 

Draco nudged Pansy aside, squeezing himself between her and Rose. “We’re going to have to start a bloody dance school Pans,” he said appreciatively, and Rose raised an eyebrow. Pansy hummed noncommittally. “Oh come on, we did good,” he told her, and she cocked her head coolly. 

“You only say that because it wasn’t your toes she was tripping on for how many hours? And you aren’t nearly as patient as your father.” 

Rose snorted, and Draco looked affronted, but conceded, “True.” He slung an arm around Rose’s shoulders. “Ready for a spin?” He didn’t wait for an answer before guiding her onto the floor. 

She settled into his hold, and let her eyes close. He still smelled like apples and cedar. “Relax, Rosie. It’s just me.” His lips brushed her temple, and she was transported right back to the Hufflepuff common room. It was impossible to forget that night, but she let her shoulders relax as his hand pressed against her bare skin, and she wasn’t sure if she regretted the backless dress or not. She let him guide her through the song, and then a second before they came to a stop, all without saying another word. 

“May I?” Rose looked around to see who was cutting in, surprised to find Mathieu. Draco stepped back with a galant bow and an “I told you so” glance at Rose. Rose took Mathieu’s proffered arm, pointedly ignoring Draco. “I have not seen you around the château. I was worried you left without saying goodbye.” Rose wondered if Draco had told him of her bad habit, or if he was actually concerned. 

“No, I wouldn’t leave without seeing this,” she said lightly. “I’m not sure who would be more angry if I skived off, Lucius or Hope. Either way, it’s not something I want to experience.” 

“I think Hermione is the one you should be afraid of,” he chuckled. “She is an unstoppable force.” 

“That she is,” Rose mused, watching the woman in question laugh with an older gentleman with thinning red hair and Ginny Potter. 

They chatted aimlessly as they danced, until she was handed off to Neville, and then Lucius. From there she ducked into the alcove she’d told Hope about, but her sister wasn’t there. She waited there for a while, though her first attempt to leave was foiled by Axios and Viv as they headed towards the gardens. She ducked back as she heard his laugh, and caught sight of her starry-eyed adoration and ruby-lipped smile, hiding until she was sure they were gone. 

Once the coast was clear, she ducked out, and ran smack into Anthony Fairview. 

“Miss Hollingsworth.” 

His decidedly cool greeting made her shrink away, and she only gave a polite nod. Scrambling to get as far away as possible, she nearly jumped at Blaise’s invitation to dance. If she kept dancing, she reasoned, she was less likely to be pulled into any uncomfortable conversations. So she continued to dance with every man in the room she knew and a few she didn’t just to keep moving. 

Draco swooped in for the last dance before midnight, and unlike the two dances at the beginning of the night, he kept up a steady stream of commentary. “Rose are you sure you’re okay?” She almost missed the question, her eyes darting around the room, searching for a threat that wasn’t there. Draco slowed her to a stop, snagging two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and pressed one into her hand. 

A flashbulb went off somewhere to her right, and she smiled mischievously up at him, brushing off his question. “Come on. We need a picture to remember the last ball we got before you’re off getting married and having baby pureblood heirs.” He rolled his eyes but waved the photographer over. 

He wrapped his arm around her waist, and they looked at the camera, and just before the flash went off he whispered, “My magnificent princess Rosie.” She glanced at him, unable to help the smile that rose to the surface. 

“Hope didn’t—“

“Little Miss Sunshine might’ve mentioned it,” he said with a wink, and kissed her cheek as the flash erupted again. She shook her head with a laugh, and glanced to the magically projected countdown near the ceiling. 

“Go find Tori for your damn midnight kiss,” she said, jerking her chin towards where Astoria had been with her sister shortly before. There was only a minute left until midnight. 

“Tori went with Daphne. She said she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to duck out early. Tori will be back later. You’re stuck with me for the count,” he joked, and Rose felt a jolt of hope, though she quickly pushed it away. 

Thirty seconds to midnight. 

“I suppose I’ll have to keep the poor dejected Draco company then,” she poked at him, and he stuck out his bottom lip in a wistful pout. 

Twenty seconds to midnight. 

He held her waist tighter, and her heart pounded out a staccato rhythm against her ribs. She swore she could feel her heartbeat in the diamond pressed into her skin. 

“Ten.” The excited roar of the crowd drowned out everything, except the sparkle of Draco’s eyes. 

“Nine.” She wasn’t sure if the dancing was catching up or if she’d had too much champagne, but her head was spinning. 

“Eight.” Her hand tightened in Draco’s robes. 

“Seven.” Someone behind her bumped into her, forcing her closer to Draco. 

“Six.” He steadied her, his arm angled up over her exposed back. 

“Five.” She drew in a shuddering breath. 

“Four.” She looked up, locking eyes with him. 

“Three.” Red and green flashes reflected back in his pupils. 

“Two.” She couldn’t breathe, but he was so close. 

“One.” Shouts erupted around them. 

And the world went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t hate me.


	45. On A Dragon's Wings

Rose crumpled in his arms, and only then did it register to Draco that the shouts were those of terror. 

“Rosie!” He scooped up her limp form, looking around for someone, anyone. He found his father, back to back with Granger, both of them shooting off spells at a dizzying pace. Neville was shoulder to shoulder with Axios, Hannah and Viv on their knees behind them, their wands working in tandem over a man’s still form on the floor. He caught a glimpse of Pansy’s magenta gown flaring as she darted towards the gardens. 

A flash of violet light flew over his left shoulder, and he was dragged roughly aside. Mathieu shouted something Draco didn’t catch, and a form in familiar black robes dropped to the ground as a jet of white light hit him from behind. 

Potter and Weasley were charging into the fray, though it looked as if their Auror training had done them  _ some  _ good, because they were careful not to let anyone get the drop on them from behind. A woman’s scream was cut short, but Draco didn’t look around. He didn’t want to know.

Clutching Rose’s limp body to his chest he made a mad dash for the entry hall. If he could make it to the floo—

Scarlet light missed him by inches, catching an elderly wizard in the back as he ran. His body slid along the polished marble, but Draco didn’t stop. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a jet black chignon over a plum-coloured gown, and he reached out, catching Aurora’s elbow, pulling her along with him. At the sight of Rose limp in his arms, she followed, keeping a shield charm around them as they ran. 

Skidding into the hallway, Draco’s stomach sank as more figures in black robes and intricately carved masks stood between them and the floo. He yanked Aurora to the left, his iron grip on Rose slipping as they darted up the staircase. Glass shattered somewhere below them, and more flashes of light seemed to just miss them. They neared his father’s study, Draco holding desperately to Rose, the yellow satin of her dress impossible to get a grip on. As they rounded the corner, a slim figure in apple green appeared, blue eyes wide as she took in the scene.

“Astoria! NO!” Draco bellowed at her, but she was backing up, scrambling down the hall and away from the safety of the floo. Aurora tugged him into the study, Draco fighting her every step of the way. 

“Draco!” Her nails cut into his arm, and she shook him, hard. “Give her to me, and go get Tori!” He looked down to Rose’s face, her beautiful brown eyes closed, her perfect pink lips parted. The scar under her eye was thrown into sharp relief at the angle her head hung, and he felt as if his heart was going to shatter as he passed her to Aurora, casting a feather-light charm as Aurora stumbled under Rose’s dead weight and dashing back out the door before he could think twice. 

Two figures in black robes had followed them up the stairs, and Draco hit the one closest to Astoria with a stunner. Her wand was nowhere to be seen. The one closest to him turned, and he recognized the mask immediately. 

“Rodolphus,” Draco breathed, barely throwing up a shield in time to deflect the Dark curse his uncle fired at him. He hoped Astoria would do the right thing and run, but as Draco fired an exploding charm at Lestrange, he saw a flash of green. He turned to see Astoria pluck the fallen Death Eater’s wand from the floor, the  _ reducto  _ curse she hurled flying wide and missing Lestrange completely. He ignored her, advancing towards Draco, backing him into a corner. 

Draco understood the Death Eater’s lack of concern when the icy despair crept up on him. Draco immediately was transported back to the month he’d been held in Azkaban after the final battle. The dementors had gone by then, but their power remained, draining away all but the worst feelings of humanity. His wand clattered to the ground as he sank to his knees. There was no hope for Astoria now.

_ Rose is dead. Mother is dead. They’ll kill Astoria. I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t save any of them. It’s all my fault. It was all in front of me, and I didn’t see it until it was too late. I failed them. I failed them.  _

The despair gripped him, and he only vaguely recognized that Rodolphus was drawing nearer. He could hear crying. Astoria. She was on her hands and knees, tears soaking into the ornate rug.

Beautiful, lovely, perfect Astoria. She deserved so much better.

Rodolphus began to laugh, a chilling, maniacal laughter that reminded Draco of Bellatrix. Visions of her torturing Hermione on the drawing room floor floated before his eyes. He could hear the way she gloated to Narcissa about having the Dark Lord’s ear. He could see the way her eyes would linger just a bit too long when his father would limp. Bellatrix was dead, but she’d caused so much pain. Not that he was any better.

_ Hermione. Father. Mother. Rosie. Astoria. I failed them all. Theo. Alice. Pansy. Blaise. Caroline. Axios. Damian. Daphne. Neville. Hannah. I failed them all.  _ The long-faded Mark on his forearm burned, like it had the day it had been placed. He doubled over in pain, the scream that ripped through him nearly inhuman. 

He’d never produced a patronus. He’d been told that taking the Mark made it impossible. And now he was either going to die by his uncle’s wand, or his soul was going to be taken by the Kiss. And he couldn’t do a thing about it. 

_ Mother. Rosie. Tori. Father. Hermione. Theo. Neville. Alice. Axios. Damian. Daphne. Blaise. Hannah. Caroline. Pansy.  _ The names of the people he cared about most were on repeat, swirling around like they were circling a drain. 

Still the maniacal laughter continued. 

Draco wanted to reach for Astoria, to tell her he loved her, but the grief and pain was all-consuming. The world was turning black. 

And then he saw an apple, balanced on the corner of a desk. 

***

Astoria felt the bone-chilling cold, the despair, the fear. But it was the sight of Draco, broken and crying at his uncle’s feet that broke her. He rarely talked about the time he’d spent in Azkaban, and even less about his experiences as a Death Eater, but she knew the guilt ate at him for what he’d seen, what he’d been forced to do.

All she could think about was how  _ good _ he was. His smile could light up a room, his quick wit and razor sharp sense of humor could appeal to even the driest listeners. He loved so wholly, so completely…

The memory of the day he proposed flooded back to her. 

***

_ It was the end of November, and the Christmas decorations were just starting to appear. He’d come to St Mungo’s, surprising her as she was getting off. He’d brought her a change of clothes, and when she’d stepped out of the staff locker rooms, his eyes had lit up. He liked her in blue. She always felt pretty when he turned those quicksilver eyes to her, and that night it was no different.  _

_ He kissed her neck as he fastened her thick cloak for her, then threaded his fingers through hers and aparated them to a small wizarding restaurant on the Welsh Coast. Dinner was lovely, and she could still feel the way his eyes lingered on her, the soft touches of his hand on hers. He’d insisted on dessert, lingering over their meal as if he wasn’t ready to end the night.  _

_ And then it had come out of him in a rush.  _

_ “Tori, I love you more than anything. Marry me.” It hadn’t been a question. It had been a gentle command, and she’d been speechless at the geometric sapphire ring he’d produced.  _

_ “This was Sabine’s.” Hers hadn’t been a question either. She’d seen it a million times on Lucius’s mother’s hand in her portrait. She’d often wondered what had happened to it, but had never asked her, despite their many long conversations after Narcissa’s death. _

_ “Yeah it was. I thought it suited you, but if you want something different--”  _

_ “No!”  _

_ Draco smirked at her vehement response. “No you won’t marry me, or no you don’t want a different ring?”  _

_ Astoria shook her head at him, her cheeks already beginning to ache. “You better put that ring on my hand before I change my mind,” she threatened. He did as he was told, sliding the cool metal over her finger and into place. “It’s perfect,” she said, her vision blurring with unshed tears.  _

_ “I’m glad you didn’t change your mind, after all these years,” Draco said softly, brushing his thumb back and forth over the ring. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”  _

_ “I’d do it all a million times over,” she told him, gripping his hand tighter. “I love you, Draco.”  _

_ He’d given her a dazzling smile, leaning over the table and kissing her in a way that both of their mothers would have disapproved of in public, then taken her home and ravaged her.  _

_ Later that night, Draco had fallen asleep but she felt restless, so she’d slipped from their rooms and down the long corridor. Sad music spilled from Lucius’ study further down the hall, but she came to a stop across from the bedroom he’d shared with Narcissa, facing a heavy gilt frame. The woman inside watched her approach with appraising eyes.  _

_ “Hello, Sabine.” Astoria greeted Draco’s paternal grandmother with a smile, and the portrait’s lips curved into a smug smirk.  _

_ “And here I was, thinking that the title of Lady Malfoy was going to be passed on to the American. I’ve never been so pleased to have been proven wrong by my little dragon.”  _

_ Astoria’s eyebrows shot up. “Rose?” She glanced back towards the bedroom where Draco lay sleeping. “Did he--”  _

_ “Narcissa once told me a rather intriguing tale, and I suppose I let it colour my judgement. Don’t worry yourself, child. He obviously made his choice. He has suffered enough to not take such things lightly.” _

_ Astoria crossed her arms tightly, considering the woman’s words, belatedly realizing the music had faded, and Lucius was nearly upon her. His eyes narrowed, and again she found herself with the Malfoy patriarch staring her down in her bare feet.  _

_ “Mother. Tori.” _

_ “Good evening, Lucius.” Unlike years before, he no longer terrified her. In fact she’d come to respect him more and more as his public persona softened and she got to know the man behind the mask.  _

_ “Hello darling,” Sabine cooed from her frame. “We were just celebrating the fortune of my ring being passed on to a worthy pureblood.”  _

_ “Mother,” Lucius warned. “We would be happy no matter Tori’s blood status.” He turned back to Astoria, a small smile curving his lips upward. “Congratulations.” _

_ “Thank you,” she couldn’t help the bright smile that broke through.  _

_ “One of my favorite operas will be playing next week. I’d love to treat you and Draco to celebrate.” Astoria was nodding before he’d finished extending the invitation.  _

_ “You know I could never say no to La Bohème. Hearing bits of it just isn’t the same,” Astoria smiled even wider, and Sabine clicked her tongue.  _

_ “When you do tire of his playing, let me know. The room behind me is sound proof,” she smirked at Lucius’ withering glare, sitting back in her chair.  _

_ “What room?” Astoria’s brow furrowed. She didn’t think the Rose Room was sound proof, and that was the closest suite.  _

_ “We had a safe room built during renovations,” Lucius explained with a sigh. He made a “go on” motion to his mother, and the frame swung inwards, exposing a small sitting area. “It was at Narcissa’s insistence, I thought it was rather a waste of time. But I suppose if you ever truly need to escape my terrible piano skills, it’s at your disposal. You simply have to be wearing a piece of Malfoy heirloom jewelry to gain access.”  _

_ She smiled, fingering Sabine’s ring. She’d never need it, but she was glad to know she was officially part of the family. She’d been right all those years ago. She was so lucky to be accepted by a family as fiercely loyal as the Malfoys.  _

***

“ _ Expecto patronum!”  _ A silver dragon burst from the end of the stolen wand in her hand. It swooped towards Lestrange, snapping its powerful jaws at him. He scrambled back, his laughter fading. 

She dove behind it, her hand closing around Draco’s wrist. “Come on!” She tugged at him, and he looked around, his eyes clouded and dazed. But at the roar of the dragon before him, he snatched his wand from the floor, and followed Astoria down the hall. 

“But the floo—“ he protested through ragged breaths. 

“No time,” she gasped, daring a glance back to see the dragon’s wings cutting off the dementor’s path through the hallway. “Sabine!” 

The blonde woman had a look of absolute fury that Astoria sympathized with completely. The frame swung in as they skidded to a stop, and Astoria yanked Draco in after her, both of them dropping to their knees as the frame clicked shut again, and the sounds of battle were cut off. Breaking glass, screams of agony and shouts of fear echoed through the silence.

Only the sounds of their heavy breathing could be heard, until soft cries came from Draco. Astoria’s own tears began when he whispered, “I failed you and Mother. And Rosie.” He looked up, horror etched in his silver eyes. “Oh gods. Tori they killed Rosie,” he sobbed.

A throat clearing behind her had Astoria back on her feet, the stolen wand directed at the wall behind Sabine’s portrait. But the wall held a second gilt frame, and another blonde woman with striking blue eyes looked down at them.

Astoria gasped. “Narcissa?” 


	46. Curse of the Ancients

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the unplanned hiatus, but we're almost to the end! If you're returning, thank you so much for sticking with it. <3

Draco’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. 

“My darling Draco,” Narcissa whispered. 

“Mum?” He heaved himself to his feet, tears running freely down his cheeks. “Mum!” His heart felt as if it was shattering all over again, being able to see his mother, but not touch her. 

“Sshhh, my darling boy. You’re safe here.” Narcissa’s distress at Draco’s anguish was clear, and he took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. Astoria’s arms came around him, and he focused on her, returning the embrace and holding her close. 

“Have you really been here all this time?” His voice nearly broke. 

“Since the day I died,” she said softly. “I knew it was coming and I couldn’t leave you, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you or Lucius wasting away in front of a portrait. So I had it hung in the one place neither of you would come unless things were dire. I’m so sorry, Draco.” 

“Can you leave it?” Astoria’s eyes darted to the seam of the wall, and Draco held her tighter. 

“Yes, and I do often. It hasn’t been easy keeping the other portraits quiet about my presence, but they’ve kept my secret for your sake, and the sake of your father,” she said, rather gently. 

“So you know about Hermione,” Draco cringed at what his mother might have heard. 

“I do. I will admit she wasn’t what I expected of Lucius, but she makes him happy.” Narcissa smiled sadly. “That’s all I wanted for him. For both of you.” 

Draco was at a loss for what to say after so long, a million questions hovered on the tip of his tongue and yet none would come out. 

Narcissa was the first to break their silence. “You didn’t fail us, Draco. You couldn’t have stopped any of it. You must understand that. The prophecy—“

“To hell with the bloody prophecy!” Draco yanked himself free of Astoria’s hold, pacing the length of the room. 

“What did it say? What did it mean?” Astoria looked up to Narcissa, silently pleading her to share. “I didn’t want to know before, but now—“

“She knew she was dying and she didn’t tell us!” Draco’s grief exploded from him, his yells echoing off the walls of the small room. Astoria flinched, and summoned a chair from the far side of the room, sitting heavily before Narcissa. 

“Is that true?” Betrayal laced her voice, and Draco knew instinctively it was on his behalf. It did little to assuage his anger and grief. 

“What good would it have done had you known? It would have stolen your happiness, made you angry and bitter, and you would have lost precious time, Draco. Time with Tori and Rose and your father that you _needed.”_ _  
_

_  
_Draco wanted to scream, to cry that it wasn’t fair. He wanted to let the aching hole in his chest swallow the light of the room until Narcissa understood how much he _hurt._ How much he needed Rose, and his mum and how she’d been stolen from him, and how her life had been stolen from her by what? Some ancient prophecy and-- 

“Who cursed us?” Draco looked to his mother and let his shoulders drop, despair crashing down on him again.

  
Narcissa shook her head. “I’ve spent the last three years trying to find out, and none of the family portraits seem to know. None of them even knew about the runes.” She pursed her lips and looked away, but Draco couldn’t tear his eyes from the familiar angles of her face. He wanted her to keep talking, just to hear her voice, but a sharp crack rang through the room, and he spun, wand raised. 

“Bigsy no! Take me back!” Hermione’s broken scream, coupled with her form sprawled over the floor was nearly as bad as the dementor had been. Draco glanced back in time to see Narcissa cringe, and Tori’s stolen wand lower. 

“Bigsy is sorry, Mistress,” the little elf cried through thickly falling tears. “Bigsy promised Master Lucius. Bigsy promised!”

  
Hermione hit the floor with the flat of her palm, and Draco rushed to her side. He couldn’t take seeing her cry on the floor again. She curled in on herself, sobs tearing through the previously quiet safe room.

  
“Granger, get up,” he pleaded, offering a hand to help her up. “Where’s Father?”

  
“What did you promise, Bigsy?” Astoria’s eyes were wide, her hands clenched in the apple-coloured silk of her gown. Draco looked back to the little elf, who was sobbing into her hands. Their cries seemed to redouble, and Draco was half a second from ordering an answer from the elf when Narcissa spoke up again. 

“He only would allowed her to be taken from his side if something happened to him, Draco. You know that.” Her voice was ladened with sadness, and Hermione’s head snapped up, tears running down her face and soaking the neckline of her Slytherin green gown. She gasped at the sight of Narcissa, and raised her hand to cover her mouth. 

“No,” Astoria whispered. “He can’t-- “

  
“Where’s Father?” Draco turned to Hermione, grasping both of her shoulders.

  
“I don’t--” She looked around wildly, finally seeming to snap out of whatever stupor she’d been in. “Where are we?”

  
“Safe room, behind Sabine’s portrait. But _where. Is. Father?”_ Draco asked again, a bit more forcefully. 

“We were in the ballroom! Hannah-- And Neville--” Her voice broke, and new tears flooded down her face. “He was dueling one of them! He was trying to--” She stopped, her eyes darting back and forth as if she were reading a book. “He yelled-- I don’t--”

  
She dropped her head, and Draco slid his hands to her elbows. “Up you get, Granger. We need to figure out how to get--”

  
“The aurors are already working on securing the house,” Narcissa said quietly. “You have to stay here, Draco. The portraits are watching. We’ll let you go when it’s safe.” She waved a hand, and the figure of Lucius I appeared at the edge of the frame. He whispered something unintelligible to Narcissa, and wandered out the other side again. 

“Granger, come on. I can’t--” he stopped, swallowing hard. “Please, Hermione.” Her brown eyes, that reminded him painfully of Rose’s, locked on his, and his tenuous control slipped incrementally. She shifted her weight and reached out for him, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Draco looked to her hands in his once she was steady on her feet, and his breath caught. 

Lucius’ heavy silver signet ring rested on the ring finger of her left hand. 

“Bigsy, what did you promise Lucius?” Hermione, unaware of Draco’s concentration on her hand, turned back to the house elf, still crying where she landed on the thick carpet. 

“Before going to Paris, Master Lucius made Bigsy promise she would keep Mistress Hermione safe. If anything happened to Master Lucius he would make sure Mistress could enter… If it was…” Her tiny voice broke, and renewed sobs tore through her tiny body. “If it was the last thing he did he would keep Mistress safe.” The tiny house elf held tightly to her ears as her whole body shook. 

Hermione’s hands clenched at her sides, and Astoria’s eyes picked over her form. “He told me you have to be wearing a piece of Malfoy heirloom jewelry to enter. You’re not wearing…” She trailed off as Hermione clasped her hands in front of her around her wand, Lucius’ ring on full display. Astoria’s blue eyes grew wide, and Draco shook his head violently. 

“No. They couldn’t kill him. He knows--”

  
“Draco,” Narcissa interrupted him softly. 

“NO!” Draco pushed his hands through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp painfully. “They killed Rosie! I lost you! I’m not losing Father too!” His voice rose to a scream, the unbearable pain rushing through his body and out in an inhuman cry. 

Hermione stood stalk-still, grasping her wand as tears poured down her face. Astoria moved forward, slipping her arms around Draco’s waist, holding him tightly, and Bigsy continued to cry on the floor. Narcissa watched the four occupants of the room, a single painted tear sliding down her flawless cheek. 

Draco didn’t know how long he stood there, shaking and crying in Astoria’s arms, but it felt like an eternity. He didn’t see the occupants of dozens of other portraits reporting to Narcissa, or Hermione collapse in a chair, staring blankly at the ring on her finger. He wasn’t aware of anything until he heard his grandmother’s voice. 

“ _Mon petit dragon_. Come here.” Sabine stood shoulder to shoulder with Narcissa, though she was several inches shorter than her daughter-in-law. Draco lifted his head slowly, a numbness he hadn’t felt since the day he’d been branded with the Dark Mark making his limbs feel heavy and useless. Astoria clutched at his arm as they moved to stand directly in front of the portrait. 

“Do you feel that, _petit?”_ Sabine’s painted eyes bore into him, and he looked helplessly up at her.

  
  
“Feel what?” Astoria squeezed his arm tighter, and Draco shook his head.

  
“I don’t feel anything,” he sighed, fighting the urge to snap at his grandmother. 

“No? Not even a little bit?” Sabine cocked her head in a very Lucius-like manner, and Draco pushed a hand through his hair again. “Not a bit of warmth, perhaps? Or a sense of relief?” A small smile turned her lips upwards, and Draco stopped, examining himself for whatever it was she thought he should be feeling. He still felt the icy grips of the dementors, the raw, gaping pain of losing Rose and Lucius, the fear and agony of what would greet him beyond the doors of the safe room.

  
But beneath it all, he did indeed feel it. Like a warm draft, dancing over his skin. Hermione stood suddenly behind him, drawing nearer the portrait as well. “What is that?” It was a harsh demand, but Sabine and Narcissa smiled.

  
“That’s an ancient curse breaking,” Sabine said gently. “Our family is free.” 


End file.
